THE ALHAMBRA. 



By WASHINGTON IRVING, 

Author of ''The Sketch Book,'' ''Knickerhockefs History 
of Neio York,''' etc., etc. 



NEW YORK: 

A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER. 



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EXCHANGE 



^^na) Record 0mm 

Copy __ 



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DEDICATION. 



TO DAVID WILKTE, ESQ., E. A. 

My dear Sir, — You may remember that, in the course 
of the rambles we once took together about some of the 
old cities of Spain, particuarly Toledo and Seville, we 
frequently remarked the mixture of the Saracenic with the 
Gothic remaining from the time of the Moors, and were 
more than once struck with incidents and scenes in the 
streets, that brought to mind passages in the '* Arabian 
Nights/^ You then urged me to write somethmg illus- 
trative of these peculiarities; " something m the Haroun 
Alraschid style, ^' that should have a dash of that Arabian 
spice which pervades everything in Spain. I call this to 
mind to show you that you are, in some degree, responsible 
for the present work; in which I have given a few *' Ara- 
besque " sketches and tales, taken from the life, or founded 
on local traditions, and mostly struck off during a resi- 
dence in one of the most legendary and Morisco-Spanish 
places of the Peninsula. 

I inscribe this work to you, as a memorial of the pleas- 
ant scenes we have witnessed together, in that land of ad- 
ventm-e, and as a testimony of an esteem for your worth, 
which can only be exceeded by admiration of your talents. 
Your friend and fellow-traveler. 

The Authob. 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



CONTENTS. 



PAOB. 

Dedication 5 

The Journey 9 

Government op the Alhambra ... 23 

Interior of the Alhambra 25 

The Tower of Comares 31 

Reflections on the Moslem Domination in Spain 35 

The Household 38 

The Truant 42 

The Author's Chamber 45 

The Alhambra by Moonlight .... 49 

Inhabitants of the Alhambra .... 50 

The Balcony 53 

The Adventure of the Mason . . . .58 

A Ramble Among the Hills . . . . 61 

The Court of Lions ....*. 68 

Boabdil el Chico 72 

Mementoes of Boabdil 75 

The Tower op Las Infantas .... 78 

The House of the Weather- cock ... 79 

Legend of the Arabian Astrologer . . 80 

Legend op the Three Beautiful Princesses . 95 

Local Traditions 115 

Legend op the Moor's Legacy . . . .117 

Visitors to the Alhambra .... 134 
Legend of Prince Ahmed Al Kamel; or, The 

Pilgrim of Love 139 

Legend of the Rose of the Alhambra ; or, The 

Page and the Ger-falcon . . . 165 

The Veteran ' 178 

The Governor and the Notary . . . 180 
Governor Manco and the Soldier . . .185 

Legend op the Two Discreet Statues . . 200 
Mahamad Aben Alahmar, the Founder of the 

Alhambra 215 

JusEF Abul Hagias, the Finisher of the Alham- 
bra . .• 



221 



THE ALHAMBKA. 



A SERIES OF TALES AND SKETCHES OF 
THE MOORS AND SPANIARDS. 



THE JOURNEY. 



In the spring of 1829, the author of this work, whom 
curiosity had brought mto Spain, made a rambling expe- 
dition from Seville to Granada, in company with a friend, 
a member of the Eussian Embassy at Madrid. Accident 
had thrown us together from distant regions of the globe, 
and a similarity of taste led us to wander together among 
the romantic mountains of Andalusia. Should these pages 
meet his eye, wherever thrown by the duties of his station, 
Avhether mingling in the pageantry of courts or meditating 
on the truer glories of nature, may they recall the scenes 
of om- adventurous companionship, and with them the re- 
membrance of one in whom neither time nor distance will 
obliterate the recollection of his gentleness and worth. 

And here, before setting forth, let me indulge m a few 
previous remarks on Spanish scenery and Spanish travel- 
ing. Many are apt to picture Spam in their imaginations 
as a soft southern region decked out with all the luxuriant 
charms of voluptuous Italy. On the contrary, though 
there are exceptions in some of the maritime provinces, 
yet, for the greater part, it is a stern, melancholy country, 
with rugged mountams and long, naked, sweeping plains, 
destitute of trees, and invariably silent and lonesome, par- 
taking of the savage and solitary character of Africa. 
What adds to this silence and loneliness, is the absence of 
singing-birds, a natural consequence of the want of groves 



10 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and hedges. The vulture and the eagle are seen wheeling 
about the mountain cliffs and soaring over the plains, and 
groups of shy bustards stalk about the heaths, but the 
myriads of smaller birds, which animate the whole face of 
other countries, are met with in but few provinces of 
Spain, and in them chiefly among the orchards and gardens 
which surround the habitations of man. 

In the exterior provinces, the traveler occasionally 
traverses gi-eat tracts cultivated with grain as far as the eye 
can reach, waving at times with verdure, at other times 
naked and sunburned; but he looks round in vain for the 
hand that has tilled the soil; at length he perceives some 
village perched on a steep hill, or rugged crag, with 
moldering battlements and ruined watch-tower; a strong- 
hold, in old times, against civil war or Moorish inroad; for 
the custom among the peasantry of congregating together 
for mutual protection is still kept up in most parts of 
Spain, in consequence of the marauding of roving free- 
booters. 

But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the gar- 
niture of groves and forests, and the softer charms of orna- 
mental cultivation, yet its scenery has something of a high 
and lofty character to compensate the want. It partakes 
something of the attributes of its people, and I think that 
I better understand the proud, hardy, frugal, and abste- 
mious Spaniard, his manly defiance of hardships, and con- 
tempt of effeminate indulgences, since I have seen the 
country he inhabits. 

There is something, too, in the sternly simple features 
of the Spanish landscape that impresses on the soul a feel- 
ing of sublimity. The immense plains of the Castiles and 
La Mancha, extending as far as the eye can reach, derive 
an interest from their very nakedness and immensity, and 
have something of the solemn grandeur of the ocean. In 
ranging over these boundless wastes, the eye catches sight, 
here and there, of a straggling herd of cattle attended by 
a lonely herdsman, motionless as a statue, with his long, 
slender pike tapering up like a lance into the air; or be- 
holds a long train of mules slowly moving along the waste 
like a train of camels in the desert, or a single herdsman, 
armed with blunderbuss and stiletto, and prowling over the 
plain. Thus, the country, the habits, the very looks of the 
people, have something of the Arabian character. The 



THE ALHAMBRA. 11 

general insecurity of the country is evinced in the universal 
use of weapons. The herdsman in the field, the shepherd 
in the plain has his musket and liis knife. The wealthy 
villager rarely ventures to the market-town without his 
trabucho, and, perhaps, a servant on foot with a blunder- 
buss on his shoulder; and the most petty journey is under- 
taken with the ^^reparations of a war-like enterprise. 

The dangers of the road produce, also, a mode of travel- 
ing resembling, on a diminutive scale, the caravans of the 
East, The arrieros, or carriers, congregate m troops, and 
set off in large and well-armed trains on appointed days, 
while individual traveler sswell their number and contrib- 
ute to their strength. In this primitive way is the com- 
merce of the country carried on. The muleteer is the 
general medium of traffic, and the legitimate wanderer of 
the land, traversing the Peninsula from the Pyrenees and 
the Asturias, to the Alpuxarras, the Serrania de Ronda, 
and even to the gates of Gibraltar. He lives frugally and 
hardily; his alforjas (or saddle-bags), of coarse cloth, hold 
his scanty stock of provisions; a leathern bottle hanging at 
his saddle-bow contains wine or water for a supply across 
barren moimtains and thirsty plains; a mule-cloth spread 
upon the ground is his bed at night, and his pack-saddle 
is his pillow. His low but clear-limbed and sinewy form 
betokens strength; his complexion is dark and sunburned; 
his eye resolute, but quiet in its expression, except when 
kindled by sudden emotion; his demeanor is frank, manly, 
and courteous, and he never passes you without a grave 
salutation — " Dios guarda a usted!'' " Vay usted con 
Dios caballero!'' " God guard you!'' '' God be with you, 
cavalier!'' 

As these men have often their whole fortune at stake 
upon the burden of their mules, they have their weapons 
at hand, slung to their saddles, and ready to be snatched 
down for desperate defense. But their united numbers 
render them secure against petty bands of marauders, and 
the solitary bandalero, armed to the teeth, and mounted 
on his Andalusian steed, hovers about them, like a pirate 
about a merchant convoy, without daring to make an as- 
sault. 

The Spanish muleteer has an inexhaustible stock of songs 
and ballads, with which to beguile his incessant wayfaring. 
The airs are rude and simple, consisting of but few in- 



12 THE ALHAMBRA. 

flections. These lie chants forth with a loud voice and long 
drawling cadence, seated sideways on his mule, who seems 
to listen with infinite gravity, and to keep time with his 
paces, to the tune. The couplets thus chanted are often 
old traditional romances about the Moors, or some legend 
of a saint, or some love ditty, or, what is still more fre- 
quent, some ballad about a bold contrabandista, or hardy 
bandalero; for the smuggler and the robber are poetical 
heroes among the common people of Spain. Often the 
song of the muleteer is composed at the mstant, and relates 
to some local scene, or some incident of the journey. This 
talent of singing and improvising is frequent in Spain, and 
is said to have been inherited from the Moors. There is 
something wildly pleasing in listening to these ditties 
among the rude and lonely scenes they illustrate, accom- 
panied, as they are, by the occasional jingle of the mule- 
bell. 

It has a most picturesque effect, also, to meet a train of 
muleteers in some mountain pass. First you hear the bells 
of the leading mules, breaking with their simple melody 
the stillness of the airy height; or, perhaps, the voice of 
the muleteer admonishing some tardy or wandering animal, 
or chanting, at the full stretch of his lungs, some tradition- 
ary ballad. At length you see the mules slowly winding 
along the cragged defile, sometimes descending precipitous 
cliffs, so as to present themselves in full relief against the 
sky, sometimes toiling up the deep, arid chasms below you. 
As they approach, you descry their gay decorations of 
worsted tufts, tassels, and saddle-cloths; while, as they 
pass by, the ever-ready trabucho, slmig behind their packs 
and saddles, gives a hint of the insecurity of the road. 

The ancient kingdom of Granada, into which we are 
about to penetrate, is one of the most mountainous regions 
of Spain. Vast sierras or chains of mountams, destitute 
of shrub or tree, and mottled with variegated marbles and 
granites, elevate their sunburned summits against a deep- 
blue sky; yet in their rugged bosoms lie ingulfed the most 
verdant and fertile valley, where tlie desert and the garden 
strive for mastery, and the very rock, as it were, compelled 
to }deld the fig, the orange, and the citron, and to blossom 
with the myrtle and the rose. 

In the wild passes of these mountains, the sight of walled 
to^vns and villages built like eagles^ nests among the cliffs. 



THE ALHAMBEA. 13 

and surrounded by Moorish battlements, or of ruined 
watch-towers perched on lofty peaks, carry the mind back 
to the chivalrous days of Christian and Moslem warfare, 
and to the romantic struggle for the conquest of Granada. 
In traversing their lofty sierras, the traveler is often 
obliged to alight and lead his horse up and down the steep 
and jagged ascents and descents, resembling the broken 
steps of a staircase. Sometimes the road winds along dizzy 
precipices, without parapet to guard him from the gulfs 
below, and then will plunge down steep, and dark, and 
dangerous declivities. • Sometimes it struggles through 
rugged barrancos, or ravines, worn by water torrents; the 
obscure paths of the contrabandista, while, ever and anon, 
the ommous cross, the memento of robbery and murder, 
erected on a moimd of stones at some lonely part of the 
road, admonishes the traveler that he is among the haunts 
of banditti; perhaps, at that very moment, under the eye 
of some lurking bandalero. Sometimes, in windmg 
through the narrow valleys, he is startled by a horse bel- 
lowing, and beholds above him, on some green fold of the 
mountain-side, a herd of fierce Andalusian bulls, destined 
for the combat of the arena. There is something awful in 
the contemplation of these terrific animals, clothed with 
tremendous strength, and ranging their native pastures in 
untamed wildness — strangers almost to the face of man. 
They know no one but the solitary herdsman who attends 
upon them, and even he at times dares not venture to ap- 
proach them. The low bellowings of these bulls, and their 
menacing aspect as they look down from their rocky height, 
give additional wildness to the savage scenery around. 

I have been betrayed unconsciously into a longer dis- 
quisition than I had intended on the several features of 
Spanish traveling; but there is a romance about all the 
recollections of the Peninsula that is dear to the imagina- 
tion. 

It was on the 1st of May that my companion and myself 
set forth from Seville, on our route to Granada. We had 
made all due preparations for the nature of our journey, 
which lay through mountainous regions where the roads are 
little better than mere mule-paths, and too frequently beset 
by robbers. The most valuable part of our luggage had 
been forwarded by the arrieros; we retained merely cloth- 
ing and necessaries for the journey, and money for the ex- 



14 THE ALHAMBEA. 

penses of the road^ with a sufficient surplus of the latter to 
satisfy the expectations of robbers, should we be assailed, 
and to save ourselves from the rough treatment that await^ 
the unwary and empty-handed traveler. A couple of 
stout hired steeds were provided for ourselves, and a third 
for our scanty luggage and for the conveyance of a sturdy 
Biscayan lad of about twenty years of age, who was to 
guide us through the perplexed mazes of the mountain 
roads, to take care of our horses, to act occasionally as our 
valet, and at all times as our guard; for he had a formid- 
able trabucho, or carbine, to defend us from rateros, or 
solitary footpads, about which weajDon he made much vain- 
glorious boast, though, to the discredit of his generalship, 
I must say that it generally hung unloaded behind his sad- 
dle. He was, however, a faitliful, cheery, kind-hearted 
creature, full of saws and j^roverbs as that miracle of 
squires, the renowned Sancho himself, whose name we be- 
stowed upon him; and, like a true Spaniard, though treat- 
ed by us with companionable familiarity, he never for a 
moment, in his utmost hilarity, overstepped the bounds of 
respectful decorum. 

Thus equipped and attended, we set out on our journey 
with a genuine disposition to be f)leased; with such a dis- 
position, what a country is Spain for a traveler, where the 
most miserable inn is as full of adventure as an enchanted 
castle, and every meal is in itself an achievement! Let 
others repine at the lack of turnpike roads and sumptuous 
hotels, and all the elaborate comforts of a country cultivat- 
ed into tameness and commonplace, but give me the rude 
mountain scramble, the roving, hap-hazard wayfaring, the 
frank, hospitable, though half -wild manners that give such 
a true game flavor to romantic Spain! 

Our first evening^s entertainment had a relish of the 
kind. We arrived after sunset at a little town among the 
hills, after a fatiguing journey over a wide, houseless plam, 
where we had been repeatedly drenched with showers. In 
the inn were quartered a party of Miguelistas, who were 
patroling the country in j)ursuit of robbers. The appear- 
ance of foreigners like ourselves was imusual in this remote 
town. Mine host, with two or three old gossipmg comrades 
in brown cloaks, studied our passports in the corner of the 
posada, while an Alguazil took notes by the dim light of a 
lamp. The passports were in foreign languages, and per- 



THE ALHAMBEA. 15 

plexed them;, but oui- Squire Sancho assisted them in their 
studies, and magnified our importance with the grandilo- 
quence of a Spaniard. In the meantime the magnificent 
distribution of a few cigars had won the hearts of all around 
us. In a little while the whole community seemed put in 
agitation to make us welcome. The corregidor himself 
waited upon us, and a great rush-bottomed armed chair 
was ostentatiously bolstered into our room by oiu' landlady, 
for the accommodation of that important personage. The 
commander of the patrol took supper with us; a surly, 
talking, laughing, swaggering Anclaluz, who had made a 
campaign in South America, and recounted his exploits ui 
love and war with much pomp of j)raise and vehemence of 
gesticulation and mysterious rolling of the eye. He told 
us he had a list of all the robbers in the country, and meant 
to ferret out e^ery mother^ s son of them; he offered us at 
the same time some of his soldiers as an escort. " One is 
enough to protect you, senors; the robbers know me, and 
know my men; the sight of one is enough to spread terror 
through a whole sierra. ^^ We thanked him for his offer, 
but assured him, in his own strain, that with the protection 
of our redoubtable Squire Sancho, we were not afraid of 
all the ladrones of Andalusia. 

While we were supping with our Andalusian friend, we 
heard the notes of a guitar and the click of castanets, and 
presently a chorus of voices singing a popular air. In 
fact, mine host had gathered together the amateur singers 
and musicians and the rustic belles of the neighborhood, 
and on going forth, the court-yard of the inn presented a 
scene of true Spanish festivity. We took our seats, with 
mine host and hostess and the commander of the patrol, 
imder the archway of the court. The guitar passed from 
hand to hand, but a jovial shoe-maker was the Orpheus of 
the place. He was a pleasant-looking fellow, with huge 
black whiskers and a roguish eye. His sleeves were rolled 
up to his elbows; he touched the guitar with masterly skill, 
and sung little amorous ditties, with an expressive leer at 
the women, tvith whom he was evidently a favorite. He 
afterward danced a fandango with a buxom Andalusian 
damsel, to the great delight of the spectators. But none 
of the females present could compare with mine host's 
pretty daughter Josefa, who had slipped away and made 
her toilet for the occasion, and had adorned her head with 



16 THE ALHAMBRA. 

roses, and also distinguislied herself in a bolero with a 
handsome young dragoon. AVe had ordered our host to 
let wine and refreshments circulate freely among the com- 
pany, yet, though there was a motley assemblage of 
soldiers, muleteers, and villagers, no one exceeded the 
bounds of sober enjoyment. The scene was a study for 
a painter — the picturesque group of dancers, the troopers 
in their half -military dress, the peasantry wrajDped in their 
brown cloaks, nor must I omit to mention the old, meager 
Alguazil in a short black cloak, who took no notice of 
anythmg going on, but sat in a corner diligently writing 
by the dim light of a huge copper lamp that might have 
figured in the days of Don Quixote. 

I am not writing a regular narrative, and do not pretend 
to give the varied events of several days^ rambling over the 
hill and dale and moor and mountain. We traveled in 
true contrabandista style, taking everything rough and 
smooth as we fomid it, and mingling with all classes and 
conditions in a kind of vagabond comiDanionship. It is 
the true way to travel in Spain. Knowing the scanty lar- 
ders of the inns, and the naked tracts of country the traveler 
has often to traverse, we had taken care, on starting, to 
have the alforjas, or saddle-bags, of our squire well stocked 
with cold provisions, and his beta, or leathern bottle, which 
was of portly dimensions, filled to the neck with choice 
Valdepenas wine. As this was a munition for our cam- 
paign more important than even his trabucho, we exhorted 
him to have an eye to it, and I will do him the justice to 
say that his namesake, the trencher-loving Sancho himself, 
could not excel him as a provident purveyor. Though the 
alforjas and beta were repeatedly and vigorously assailed 
throughout the journey, they appeared to have a miraculous 
property of being never empty; for our vigilant squire took 
care to sack everything that remained from our evening re- 
pasts at the inns, to supply our next day's luncheon. 

What luxurious noontide repasts have we made on the 
greensward by the side of a brook or fountain under a 
sharly tree, and then what delicious siestas on our cloaks 
spread out on the herbage! 

We paused one day at noon for a repast of the kind. It 
was in a j^leasant little green meadow surrounded by hills 
covered with olive-trees. Our cloaks were spread on the 
grass under an elm-tree, by the side of a babbling rivulet; 



^HE ALHAMBKA. 17 

our horses were tethered where they might crop the herb- 
age, and Sancho produced his alforjas with an air of 
triumph. They contained the contributions of four days 
joumejdng, but had been signally enriched by the foraging 
of the previous evening, in a plenteous inn at Antequera. 
Our squire drew forth the heterogeneous contents one by 
one, and they seemed to have no end. First came forth a 
shoulder of roasted kid, very little the worse for wear, then 
an entire partridge, then a great morsel of salted codfish 
wrapped in paper, then the residue of a ham, then the half 
of a pullet, together with several rolls of bread and a rabble 
rout of oranges, figs, raisins, and walnuts. His beta also 
had been recruited with some excellent wine of Malaga. 
At every fresh apparition from his larder, he would enjo}^ 
our ludicrous surprise, throwing himself back on the grass 
and shoutmg with laughter. 

Nothing pleased this simple-hearted varlet more than to 
be compared, for his devotion to the trencher, to the re- 
nowned squire of Don Quixote. He was well versed in the 
history of the Don, and, like most of the common jieople 
of Spain, he firmly believed it to be a true history. 

'*' All that, however, happened a long time ago, senor,^' 
said he to me, one day, with an inquiring look. 

'^ A very long time,^' was the reply. 

'' I dare say, more than a thousand years ?^' still looking 
dubiously. 

*' I dare say; not less.'^ 

The squire was satisfied. 

As we were making our repast above described, and 
diverting ourselves with the simple drollery of our squire, 
a solitary beggar approached us, who had almost the look 
of a pilgrim. He was evidently very old, with a gray 
beard, and sujoported himself on a staff, yet age had not 
borne him down; he was tall and erect, and had the wreck 
of a fine form. He wore a round Andalusian hat, a sheej}- 
.skin jacket, and leathern breeches, gaiters, and sandals. 
His dress, though old and patched, was decent, his de- 
meanor manly, and he addressed us with that grave courtesy 
that is to be remarked in the lowest Spaniard. We were 
in a favorable mood for such a visitor, and in a freak of 
capricious charity gave him some silver, a loaf of fine 
wheaten bread, and a goblet of our choice ymie of Malaga. 
He received them thankfully, but without any groveling" 



18 THE ALHAMBKA. 

tribute of gratitude. Tasting the wine, he held it up to 
the hght, with a slight beam of surprise in his eye; then 
quaffing it off at a draught: "It is many years/ ^ said he, 
'* since I have tasted such wine. It is a cordial to an old 
man's heart.''' Then, looking at the beautiful wheaten 
loaf: "Bendita sea tal pan!"' (Blessed be such bread!) 
So saying, he put it m his wallet. We urged him to eat it 
on the spot. ^' No, senors,'' replied he, " the wine I had 
to drink, or leave; but the bread I must take home to 
share with my family." 

Oiu' man Sancho sought our eye, and reading permission 
there, gave the old man some of the ample fragments of 
our repast; on condition, however, that he should sit down 
and make a meal. He accordingly took his seat at some 
little distance from us, and began to eat, slowly and with a 
sobriety and decorum that would have become a hidalgo. 
There was altogether a measured manner and a quiet self- 
possession about the old man that made me think he had 
seen better days; his language, too, though simple, had 
occasionally something picturesque and almost poetical in 
the phraseology. I set him down for some broken-down 
cavalier. I was mistaken, it was nothing but the innate 
courtesy of a Spaniard, and the poetical turn of thought 
and language often to be found in the lowest classes of this 
clear-witted people. For fifty years, he told us, he had 
been a shepherd, but now he was out of employ, and desti- 
tute. ''When I was a young man,'' said he, ''nothing 
could harm or trouble me. I was always well, always gay; 
but now I am seventy-nine years of age, and a beggar, and 
my heart begins to fail me." 

Still he was not a regular mendicant; it was not until re- 
cently that want had driven him to this degradation, and 
he gave a touching picture of the struggle between hunger 
and pride, when abject destitution first came upon him. 
He was returning from Malaga, without money; he had not 
tasted food for some time, and was crossing one of the great 
plains of Spain, where there were but few habitations. 
When almost dead with hunger, he a2Dplied at the door of a 
venta, or country inn. " Perdona usted per Dios her- 
manol" (excuse us, brother, for God's sake!) was there- 
ply; the usual mode in Spain of refusing a beggar. " I 
turned away," said he, " with shame greater than my 
hunger, for my heart was yet too proud. I came to a river 



THE ALHAMBRA. 19 

with high banks and deep, rapid current, and felt tempted 
to throw myself in; what should such an old, worthless, 
wretched man as I live for? But when I was on the brink 
of the current, I thought on the Blessed Virgin, and turned 
away. I traveled on until I saw a country-seat at a little 
distance from the road, and entered the outer gate of the 
court-yard. The door was shut, but there were two young 
signoras at a window. I approached, and begged : ' Per- 
dona usted per Dios hermano!' (excuse us, brother, for 
God's sake!) and the window closed. I crept out of the 
court-yard ; but hunger overcame me, and my heart gave 
way. I thought my hour was at hand. So I laid myself 
down at the gate, commended myself to the holy Virgin, 
and covered my head to die. In a little while afterward, 
the master of the house came home. Seeing me lying at 
his gate, he uncovered my head, had pity on my gray hairs, 
took me into his house, and gave me food. So, senors, 
you see that we should always put confidence in the protec- 
tion of the Virgin. '^ 

The old man was on his way to his native place, Archi- 
dona, which was close by the summit of a steep and rugged 
mountain. He pointed to the ruins of its old Moorish 
castle. That castle, he said, was inhabited by a Moorish 
king at the time of the wars of Granada. Queen Isabella 
invaded it with a great army, but the king looked down 
from his castle among the clouds, and laughed her to 
scorn. Upon this, the Virgin appeared to the queen, and 
guided her and her army up a mysterious path of the 
mountain, which had never before been known. When 
the Moor saw her coming, he was astonished, and springing 
with his liorse from a precipice, was dashed to pieces. The 
marks of his horse's hoofs, said the old man, are to be seen 
on the margin of the rock to this day. " And see, senors, 
yonder is the road by which the queen and her army 
mounted — you see it like a ribbon up the mountain-side; 
but the miracle is, that, though it can be seen at a distance, 
when you come near, it disappears.'' The ideal road to 
which he pointed was evidently a sandy ravine of the 
moimtain, which looked narrow and defined at a distance, 
but became broad and indistinct on an approach. As the 
okl man's heart warmed with wine and wassail, he went on 
to tell us a story of the buried treasure left under the earth 
by the Moorish king. His own house was next to the 



20 THE ALHAMBRA. 

foundations of the castle. The curate and notary dreamed 
three times of the treasm-e^ and went to work at the place 
pointed out in their dreams. His own son-in-law heard the 
sound of their pick-axes and spades at night. What they 
found nobody knows; they became suddenly rich, but kept 
their own secret. Thus the old man had once been next 
door to fortune, but was doomed never to get under the 
same roof. 

I have remarked that the stories of treasure buried by 
the Moors, which prevail throughout Spain, are most cur- 
rent among the poorest people. It is thus kmd nature 
consoles with shadows for the lack of substantials. The 
thirsty man dreams of fountains and roaring streams, the 
hungry man of ideal banquets, and the poor man of heaps 
of hidden gold; nothing certainly is more magnificent than 
the imagmation of a beggar. 

The last traveling sketch which I shall give is a curious 
scene at the little city of Loxa. This was a famous bel- 
ligerent frontier post, in the time of the Moors, and re- 
pulsed Ferdinand from its walls. It was the stronghold of 
old Ali Atar, the father-in-law of Boabdil, when that fiery 
veteran sallied forth with his son-in-law on that disastrous 
inroad that ended in the death of the chieftain and the 
capture of the monarch. Loxa is wildly situated in a 
broken momitain pass, on the banks of the Xenil, among 
rocks and groves and meadows and gardens. The people 
seem still to retain the bold, fiery spirit of the olden time. 
Our inn was suited to the place. It was kept by a young, 
Iiandsome Andalusian widow, whose trim busquina of 
black silk fringed with bugles set oif the play of a graceful 
form and round, pliant limbs. Her step was firm and 
elastic, her dark eye was full of fire, and the coquetry of 
her air and varied ornaments of her person showed that she 
was accustomed to be admired. 

She was well matched by a brother, nearly about her 
OAvn age; they were perfect models of the Andalusian majo 
and maja. He was tall, vigorous, and well formed, with a 
clear, olive complexion, a dark, beaming eye, and curling, 
chestnut whiskers, that met under his chin. He w^as gal- 
lantly dressed in a short green velvet jacket, fitted to his 
shape, profusely decorated with silver buttons, with a white 
handkerchief in each pocket. He had breeches of the 
same, with rx)ws of buttons from the hips to the knees; a 



THE ALHAMBEA. 21 

pink silk handkerchief round his neck, gathered through a 
ring, on the bosom of a neatly plaited shirt; a sash round 
the waist to match; bottinas or spatterdashes of the finest 
russet leather, elegantly worked and open at the calves to 
show his stockings, and russet shoes setting off a well-shaped 

As he was standmg at the door, a horseman rode up and 
entered into low and earnest conversation with him. He 
was dressed in similar style, and almost with equal finery. 
A man about thirty, square built, with strong Eoman feat- 
ures, handsome, though slightly pitted with small-pox, with 
a free, bold, and somewhat daring air. His powerful black 
horse was decorated with tassels and fanciful trappings, 
and a couple of broad-mouthed blunderbusses hung behind 
the saddle. He had the air of those contrabandistas that I 
have seen in the mountains of Ronda, and, evidently, had 
a good understandmg with the brother of mine hostess; 
nay, if I mistake not, he was a favorite admirer of the 
widow. In fact, the whole mn and its inmates had some- 
thing of a contrabandista aspect, and the bkmderbuss stood 
in a corner beside the guitar. The horseman I have men- 
tioned passed his evening in the posada, and sung several 
bold mountain romances with great spirit. 

As we were at supper, two poor Asturians put in in dis- 
tress, begging food and a night's lodging. They had been 
waylaid by robbers as they came from a fair among the 
mountains, robbed of a horse, which carried all their stock 
in trade, stripped of their money and most of their apparel, 
beaten for having offered resistance, and left almost naked 
in the road. My companion, with a prompt generosity 
natural to him, ordered them a supper and a bed, and gave 
them a supply of money to help them forward toward their 
home. 

As the evening advanced, the dramatis personw thick- 
ened. A large man, about sixty years of age, of powerful 
frame, came strolling in, to gossip with mine hostess. He 
was dressed in the ordinary Andalusian costume, but had 
a huge saber tucked under his arm, wore large mustaches, 
and had something of a lofty, swaggering air. Every one 
seemed to regard him with great deference. 

Our man, Sancho, whispered to us that he was Don 
Ventura Rodriguez, the hero and champion of Loxa, famous 
for his prowess and the strength of his arm. - In the time 



22 THE ALHAMBRA. 

of the French invasion^, he surprised six troopers who were 
asleep. He first secured their horses, then attacked them 
with his saber; killed some, and took the rest prisoners. 
For this exploit, the king allows him a peceta (the fifth of 
a duro, or dollar), per day, and has dignified him with the 
title of Don. 

I was amused to notice his swelling language and de- 
meanor. He was evidently a thorough Andalusian, boast- 
ful as he was brave. His saber was always in his hand, or 
under his arm. He carries it always about with him as a 
child does a doll, calls it his Santa Teresa, and says, that 
when he draws it, " tembla la tierra!^^ (the earth trembles!) 

I sat until a late hour listening to the varied themes of 
this motley group, who mingled together with the unreserve 
of a Spanish posada. We had contrabandista songs, stories 
of robbers, guerilla exploits, and Moorish legends. The 
last one from our handsome landlady, who gave a poetical 
account of the infiernos, or infernal regions of Loxa — dark 
caverns, in which subterraneous streams and water-falls 
make a mysterious somid. The common people say they 
are money coiners, shut up there from the time of the 
Moors, and that the Moorish kings kept their treasures in 
these caverns. 

Were it the purport of this work, I could fill its pages 
with the incidents and scenes of our rambling expedition, 
but other themes invite me. Journeying in this manner, 
we at length emerged from the momitains, and entered 
upon the beautiful Yega of Granada. Here we took our 
last midday^ s repast mider a grove of olive-trees, on the 
borders of a rivulet, with the old Moorish capital in the 
distance, dominated by the ruddy towers of the Alhambra, 
while far above it the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada 
shone like silver. The day was without a cloud, and the 
heat of the sun tempered by cool breezes from the mount- 
ains. After our repast we spread our cloaks and took our 
last siesta, lulled by the humming of bees among the 
flowers and the notes of the ring-doves from the neighbor- 
ing olive-trees. When the sultry hours were past, we re- 
sumed our journey, and after passing between hedges of 
aloes and Indian figs, and through a wilderness of gardens, 
arrived about sunset at the gates of Granada. 



THE ALHAMBKA. 23 



GOVEKNMENT OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

To the traveler imbued with a feeling for the historical 
and poetical^ the Alhambra of Granada is as much an ob- 
ject of veneration as is the Caaba, or sacred house of Mecca, 
to all true Moslem pilgrims. How many legends and tra- 
ditions, true and fabidous, how many songs and romances, 
Spanish and Arabian, of love, and war, and chivalry, are 
associated with this romantic pile ! The reader may judge, 
therefore, of our delight, when, shortly after our arrival in 
Granada, the Governor of Alhambra gave us permission to 
occupy his vacant apartments in the Moorish palace. My 
companion was soon summoned away by the duties of his 
station, but I remained for several months spell-bound in 
the old enchanted pile. The following papers are the re- 
sult of my reveries and researches during that delicious 
thraldom. If they have the power of imparting any of 
the witching charms of the place to the imagination of the 
reader, he will not repine at lingering with me for a season 
in the legendary halls of the Alhambra. 

The Alhambra is an ancient fortress or castellated palace 
of the Moorish kings of Granada, where they held dominion 
over this their boasted terrestrial paradise, and made their 
last stand for empire in Spain. The palace occupies but a 
portion of the fortress, the walls of which, studded with 
towers, stretch irregularly round the whole crest of a lofty 
hill that overlooks the city, and forms a spire of the Sierra 
Nevada, or Snowy Mountain. 

In the time of the Moors, the fortress was capable of 
containing an army of forty thousand men within its pre- 
cincts, and served occasionally as a stronghold of the sover- 
eigns against their rebellious subjects. After the kingdom 
had passed into the hands of the Christians, the Alhambra 
continued a royal demesne, and was occasionally inhabited 
by the Castilian monarchs. The Emperor Charles Y. be- 
gan a sumptuous palace within its walls, but was deterred 
from completing it by repeated shocks of earthquakes. 
The last royal residents were Philip V. and his beauti- 
ful Queen Elizabetta, of Parma, early in the eighteenth 
century. 



24 THE ALHAMBEA. 

Great preparations were made for their reception. The 
palace and gardens were placed in a state of repair; and a 
new suite of apartments erected, and decorated by artists 
brought from Italy. The sojourn of the sovereigns was 
transient; and, after their departure, the palace once more 
became desolate. Still the place was maintained with some 
military state. The governor held it immediately from 
the crown; its jurisdiction extended down into the suburbs 
of the city, and was independent of the captain-general of 
Granada. A considerable garrison was kept up; the gov- 
ernor had his apartments in the old Moorish palace, and 
never descended into Granada without some military 
parade. The fortress, in fact, was a little town of itself, 
having several streets of houses within its walls, together 
with a Franciscan convent and a 23arochial church. 

The desertion of the court, however, was a fatal blow to 
the Alhambra. Its beautiful walls became desolate, and 
some of them fell to rum; the gardens were destro5^ed, and 
the foimtains ceased to play. By degrees the dwellings 
became filled up with a loose and lawless population; con- 
trabandistas, who availed themselves of its independent 
jurisdiction to carry on a wide and daring course of smug- 
gling, and thieves and rogues of all sorts, who made this 
their place of refuge, from whence they might depredate 
upon Granada and its vicinity. The strong arm of govern- 
ment at length mterposed. The whole community was 
thoroughly sifted; none were suffered to remain but such 
as were of honest character and had legitimate right to a 
residence; the greater part of the houses were demolished, 
and a mere hamlet left, with the parochial church and the 
Franciscan convent. 

During the recent troubles in Spain, when Granada was 
in the hands of the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned 
by their troops, and the palace was occasionally inhabited 
by the Fi*ench commander. With that enlightened taste 
which has ever distinguished the French nation in their 
conquests, this monument of Moorish elegance and 
grandeur was rescued from the absolute ruin and desola- 
tion that were overwhelming it. The roofs were repaired, 
the saloons and galleries protected from the weather, the 
gardens cultivated, the water-courses restored, the fount- 
ains once more made to throw up their sparkling showers; 
and Spain may thank her invaders for having preserved to 



THE ALHAMBRA. 25 



her the most beautiful and interesting of her historical 
monuments. 

On the departure of the French, they blew up several 
towers of the outer wall, and left the fortifications scarcely 
tenable. Since that time, the military importance of the 
post is at an end. The garrison is a handful of invalid 
soldiers, whose principal duty is to guard some of the outer 
towers, which serve, occasionally, as a prison of state; and 
the governor, abandonmg the lofty hill of the Alhambra, 
resides in the center of Granada, for the more convenient 
dispatch of his official duties. I can not conclude this 
brief notice of the state of the fortress, without bearnig 
testimony to the honorable exertions of its present com- 
mander, Don Francisco de Salis Serna, who is tasking all 
the limited resources at his command to put the palace in 
a state of repair; and by his judicious precautions has for 
some time arrested its too certain decay. Had his prede- 
cessors discharged the duties of their station with equal 
fidelity, the Alhambra might yet have remained m almost 
its pristine beauty; were government to second him with 
means equal to his zeal, this edifice might still be preserved 
to adorn the land, and to attract the curious and enlight- 
ened of every clime, for many generations. 



INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

The Alhambra has been so often and so minutely de- 
scribed by travelers, that a mere sketch will probably be 
sufficient for the reader to refresh his recollection; I will 
give, therefore, a brief account of our visit to it the morn- 
ing after our arrival in Granada. 

Leaving our posada of La Espada, we traversed the re- 
nowned square of the Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moor- 
ish jousts and tournaments, now a crowded market-place. 
From thence we proceeded along the Zacatin, the main 
street of what was the great Bazaar, in the time of the 
Moors, where the small shops and narrow alleys still retain 
their Oriental character. Crossing an open place in front 
of the palace of the captain-general, we ascended a confined 
and winding street, the name of which reminded us of the 
chivalric days of Granada. It is called the CciUe, or street 
of the Gomeras, from a Moorish family, famous in chroni- 



26 THE ALHAMBKA. 

cle and song. This street led up to a mansion gate-way of 
Grecian architecture, built by Charles V., forming the 
entrance to the domains of the Alhambra. 

At the gate were two or three ragged and superannuated 
soldiers, dozing on a stone bench, the successors of the 
Zegris and the Abencerrages; while a tall, meager varlet, 
whose rusty brown cloak was evidently intended to conceal 
the ragged state of his nether garments, was lounging in 
the sunshine and gossijDing with an ancient sentinel on 
duty. He joined us as we entered the gate, and offered 
his services to show us the fortress. 

I have a traveler's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did 
not altogether like the garb of the applicant: 

" You are well acquainted with the place, T presume?' ' 

" Niuguno mas — pues, senor, soy hi jo de la Alhambra.'' 

(Nobody better — in fact, sir, I am a son of the Alham- 
bra.) 

The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical 
way of expressing themselves — " A son of the Alhambra;" 
the appellation caught me at once; the very tattered garb 
of my new acquaintance assumed a dignity in my eyes. It 
was emblematic of the features of the place, and became 
the progeny of a ruin. 

I put some further questions to him, and found his title 
was legitimate. His family had lived in the fortress from 
generation to generation ever since the time of the con- 
quest. His name was Mateo Ximenes. " Then, perhaps," 
said I, " you may be a descendant from the great Cardinal 
Ximenes." 

'^Dios sabe! God knows, senor. It may be so. We 
are the oldest family in the Alhambra. Viejos CrisUanos 
(old Christians) without any taint of Moor or Jew. I know 
we belong to some great family or other, but I forget who. 
My father knows all about it. He has the coat of arms 
hanging up in his cottage, up in the fortress." There is 
never a Spaniard, however poor, but has some claim to 
high pedigree. The first title of this ragged worthy, how- 
ever, had completely captivated me, so I gladly accepted 
the services of the " son of the Alhambra." 

We now found ourselves in a deep narrow ravine filled 
with beautiful groves, with a steep avenue and various foot- 
paths winding through it, bordered with stone seats and 
ornamented with fountains. To om- left, we beheld the 



THE ALHAMBRA. 27 

towers of the Alhambra beetling above us; to oar right;, on 
the opposite side of the ravine^, we were equally dominated 
by rival towers on a rocky eminence. These, we were told,, 
were the Torres Vermejos, or Vermilion Towers^, so called 
from their ruddy hue. No one knows their origin. They 
are of a date much anterior to the Alhambra. Some sup- 
pose them to have been built by the Romans; others, by 
some wandering colony of Phoenicians. Ascending the 
steep and shady avenue, we arrived at the foot of a huge 
square Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican, through 
which passed the main entrance to the fortress. Within 
the barbican was another group of veteran invalids, one 
momiting guard at the portal, while the rest, wrapped in 
their tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This 
portal is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held 
within its porch during the Moslem domination, for the 
immediate trial of petty causes; a custom common to the 
Oriental nations, and occasionally alluded to in the sacred 
Scriptures. 

The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by 
an immense Arabian arch of the horse-shoe form, which 
springs to half the height of the tower. On the key-stone 
of this arch is engraven a gigantic hand. Within the 
vestibule, on the key-stone of the portal, is engraven, in 
like manner, a gigantic key. Those who pretend to some 
knowledge of Mohammedan symbols, affirm that the hand 
is the emblem of doctrine, and the key, of faith; the latter, 
they add, was emblazoned on the standard of the Moslems 
when they subdued Andalusia, in opposition to the Chris- 
tian emblem of the cross. A different explanation, how- 
ever, was given by the legitimate " son of the Alhambra,'^ 
and one more in unison with the notions of the common 
people, who attach something of mystery and magic to 
everything Moorish, and have all kinds of suiierstitions 
connected with this old Moslem fortress. 

Accordmg to Mateo, it was a tradition handed down 
from the oldest inhabitants, and wliich he had from his 
father and grandfather, that the hand and key were 
magical devices on which the fate of the Alhambra de- 
pended. The Moorish king who built it was a great 
magician, and, as some believed, had sold himself to the 
devil, and had laid the whole fortress under a magic spell. 
By this means it had remained standing for several hmidred 



:^8 THE ALHAMBEA. 

years, iii defiance of storms and earthquakes, while almost 
all the other buildings of the Moors had fallen to ruin and 
disappeared. The spell, the tradition went on to say, 
would last until the hand on the outer arch should reach 
down and grasp the key, when the whole pile would tumble 
to pieces, and all the treasures buried beneath it by the 
Moors would be revealed. 

Notwithstanding tliis ominous prediction, we ventured to 
pass through the spell-bound gate-way, feeling some little 
assurance against magic art in the protection of the Virgin, 
a statue of whom we observed above the portal. 

After passing through the barbican, we ascended a nar- 
row lane, winding between walls, and came on an open 
esplanade within the fortress, called the Plaza de los 
Algibes, or Place of the Cisterns, from great reservoirs 
which undermine it, cut in the living rock by the Moors, 
for the supply of the fortress. Here, also, is a well of im- 
mense depth, furnishing the purest and coldest of water — 
another monument of the delicate taste of the Moors, who 
were indefatigable in their exertions to obtain that element 
in its crystal purity. 

In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile, commenced 
by Charles V. , intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence 
of the Moslem kings. With all its grandeur and architect- 
ural merit, it appeared to us like an arrogant intrusion, 
and passing by it, we entered a simple, unostentatious por- 
tal opening into the interior of the Moorish palace. 

The transition was almost magical; it seemed as if we 
were at once transported into other times and another 
realm, and were treading the scenes of Arabian story. We 
found ourselves in a great court paved with white marble 
and decorated at each end with light Moorish peristyles. 
It is called the Court of the Alberca. In the center was an 
immense basin, or fish-pool, a hundred and thirty feet in 
length, by thirty in breadth, stocked with gold-fish, and 
bordered by hedges of roses. At the upper end of this 
court rose the great Tower of Comares. 

From the lower end we passed through a Moorish arch- 
way into the renowned Court of Lions. There is no part 
of the edifice that gives us a more complete idea of its 
original beauty and magnificence than this; for none has 
suffered so little from the ravages of time. In the center 



THE ALHAMBRA. 29 

stands the fountain famous in song and story. The ala- 
baster basins still shed their diamond drops, and the twelve 
lions which support them cast forth their crystal streams 
as in the days of Boabdil. The court is laid out in flower- 
beds, and surromided by light Arabian arcades of open fili- 
gree work, supported by slender pillars of white marble. 
The architecture, like that of all the other parts of the 
palace, is characterized by elegance, rather than grandeur, 
bespeaking a delicate and graceful taste, and a dispositipri^ 
to indolent enjoyment. When we look upon the fairy 
tracery of the peristyles, and the apparently fragjlefret- 
work of the walls, it is difficult to believe thalTso much 
has survived the wear and tear of centuries, the shocks of 
earthquakes, the violence of war, and the quiet, though no 
less baneful, pilferings of the tasteful traveler. It is 
almost sufficient to excuse the popular tradition, that the 
whole is protected by a magic charm. 

On one side of the court, a portal richly adorned opens 
into a lofty hall paved with white marble, and called the 
Hall of the Two Sisters. A cupola, or lantern, admits a 
tempered light from above, and a free circulation of air. 
The lower part of the walls is incrusted with beautiful 
Moorish tiles, on some of which are emblazoned the escut- 
cheons of the Moorish monarchs; the upper part is faced 
with the fine stucco-work invented at Damascus, consisting 
of large plates cast in molds and artfully joined, so as to 
have the appearance of having been laboriously sculptured 
by the hand into light relievos and fanciful arabesques, 
intermingled with texts of the Koran and poetical inscrip- 
tions in Arabian and Celtic characters. These decorations 
of the walls and cupolas are richly gilded, and the inter- 
stices paneled with lapis lazuli and other brilliant and en- 
during colors. On each side of the wall are recesses for 
ottomans and arches. Above an inner porch is a balcony 
which communicated with the women^s apartment. The 
latticed balconies still remain, from whence the dark-eyed 
beauties of the harem might gaze unseen upon the enter- 
tainments of the hall below. 

It is impossible to contemplate this once favorite abode 
of Oriental manners, without feeling the early associations 
of Arabian romance, and almost expecting to see the white 
arm of some mysterious princess beckoning from the bal- 
cony, or some dark eye sparkling through tlie lattice. The 



30 THE ALHAMBBA. 

abode of beauty is here, as if it had been inhabited but 
yesterday — but where are the Zoraydas and Lindaraxas? 

On the opposite side of the Court of Lions is the Hall of 
the Abencerrages, so called from the gallant cavaliers of 
that illustrious line, who were here perfidiously massacred. 
There are some who doubt the whole truth of this story, 
but our humble attendant, Mateo, pointed out the very 
wicket of the portal through which they are said to have 
been introduced, one by one, and the white marble fountain 
in the center of the hall, where they were beheaded. He 
showed us also certain broad, ruddy stains in the pavement, 
traces of their blood, which, according to popular belief, 
can never be effaced. Finding we listened to him with 
easy faith, he added that there was often heard at night, 
in the Court of the Lions, a low, confused sound resem- 
bling the murmurings of a multitude, w^ith now and then 
a faint tinkling, like the distant clank of chains. These 
noises are probably produced by the bubbling currents and 
tinkling falls of water, conducted under the pavement 
through pipes and channels to supply the foimtains; but 
according to the legend of the son of the Alhambra, they 
are made by the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages, 
who nightly haimt the scene of their suffering, and invoke 
the vengeance of Heaven on their destroyer. 

From the Court of Lions we retraced our steps thl'ough 
the Court of the Alberca, or great fish-pool, crossing which, 
we proceeded to the Tower of Comares, so called from the 
name of the Arabian architect. It is of massive strength, 
and lofty height, domineering over the rest of the edifice, 
and overhanging the steep hill-side, which descends ab- 
ruptly to the banks of the Darro. A Moorish archway 
admitted us into a vast and lofty hall, which occupies the 
interior of the tower, and was the grand audience-chamber 
of the Moslem monarchs, thence called the Hall of Embas- 
sadors. It still bears the traces of past magnificence. The 
walls are richly stuccoed and decorated with arabesques, 
the vaulted ceilings of cedar wood, almost lost in obscurity 
from its height, still gleam with rich gilding and the brill- 
iant tints of the Arabian pencil. On three sides of the 
saloon are deep windows, cut through the immense thick- 
ness of the walls, the balconies of which look down upon 
the verdant valley of the Darro, the streets and convents 
of the Albaycin, and command a prospect of the distant 



THE ALHAMBRA. 31 

Vega. I might go on to describe the other delightful 
apartments of this side of the palace; the Tocador, or 
toilet of the queen, an open belvedere on the summit of 
the tower, where the Moorish sultanas enjoyed the pure 
breezes from the momitain and the j^rospcct of the sur- 
rounding paradise; the secluded little jiatio, or garden of 
Lindaraxa, with its alabaster fountain, its thickets of roses 
and myrtles, of citrons and oranges; the cool halls and 
grottoes of the baths, where the glare and heat of day arc 
tempered hito a self-mysterious light and a j^ei'vading 
freshness. But I appear to dwell minutely on these scenes. 
My object is merely to give the reader a general introduc- 
tion into an abode, where, if disj)osed, he may linger and 
loiter with me through the remainder of this work, grad- 
ually becoming familiar with all its beauties. 

An abundant supj^ly of water, brought from the mount- 
ains by old Moorish aqueducts, circulates throughout the 
palace, supplying its baths and fish-pools, sparkling in jets 
within its halls, or murmuring in channels along the 
marble pavements. When it has paid its tribute to the 
royal pile, and visited its gardens and i^astures, it flows 
down the long avenue leading to the city, tinkling in rills, 
gushing in fountains, and maintaining a perpetual verdure 
in those groves that embower and beautify the whole hill 
of the Alhambra. 

Those only who have sojourned in the ardent climates 
of the south can appreciate the delights of an abode com- 
bining the breezy coolness of the mountain with the fresh- 
ness and verdure of the valley. 

While the city below pants with the noontide heat, and 
the parched Vega trembles to the eye, the delicate airs 
from the Sierra Nevada play through the lofty halls, bring- 
ing with them the sweetness of the surrounduig gardens. 
Everything invites to that indolent repose, the bliss of 
southern climes; and while the half -shut eye looks out from 
shaded balconies upon the glittering landscape, the ear is 
lulled by the rustling of groves and the murmur of run- 
ning streams. 



THE TOWER OF OOMARES. 

The reader has had a sketch of the interior of the 
Alhambra, and may be desirous of a general idea of its 



32 THE ALIIAMBRA. 

vicinity. The morning is serene and lovely; the sun has 
not gained sufficient power to destroy the freshness of the 
night; we will mount to the summit of the Tower of 
Comares, and take a bird^s-eye view of Granada and its 
environs. 

Come, then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my steps 
into this vestibule ornamented with rich tracery, which 
opens to the Hall of Embassadors. We will not enter the 
hall, however, but turn to the left, to this small door, 
opening in the wall. Have a care! here are steejD winding 
stejDS and but scanty light. Yet, up this narrow, obscure, 
and winding staircase, the proud monarchs of Granada and 
their queens often have ascended to the battlements of the 
tower to watch the a^iproach of Christian armies, or to gaze 
on the battles in the Vega. At length we are ujDon the ter- 
raced roof, and may take breath for a moment, while we 
cast a general eye over the sjDlendid panorama of city and 
country, of rocky mountain, verdant valley, and fertile 
plain; of castle, cathedral, Moorish towers and Gothic 
domes, crumbling ruins and blooming groves. 

Let us approach the battlements and cast our eyes im- 
mediately below. See — on this side we have the whole 
plan of the Alhambra laid open to us, and can look down 
into its courts and gardens. At the foot of the tower is 
the Court of the Alberca with its great tank or fish-pool 
bordered with flowers; and yonder is the Court of Lions, 
with its famous fountain and its light Moorish arcades; 
and in the center of the pile is the little garden of Linda- 
raxa, buried in the heart of the building, with its roses and 
citrons and shrubbery of emerald green. 

That belt of battlements studded with square towers, 
stragglmg round the whole brow of the hill, is the outer 
boundary of the fortress. Some of the towers, you may 
perceive, are in ruins, and their massive fragments are 
buried among vines, fig-trees, and aloes. 

Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a 
giddy height; the .very foundations of the tower rise above 
the groves of the steep hill-side. And sec, a long fissure 
in the massive walls shows that the tower has been rent by 
some of the earthquakes, which from time to time have 
thrown Granada into consternation; and which, sooner or 
later, must reduce this crumbling pile to a mere mass of 
ruin. The deep, narrow glen below us, which gradually 



#THEv ALIIA M 13K A , o3 

widens as it opens from the ui^imtains, is the valley of the 
Darro; you see the little river winding its way under eni- 
boAvered terraces, and among orchards and flower-gardens. 
It is a stream famous in old times for yielding gold, and 
its sands are still sifted, occasionally, in search of the 
precious ore. 

Some of those white j^avilions which here and there 
gleam from among the groves and vineyards were rustic 
retreats of the Moors, to enjoy the refreshment of their 
gardens. 

The airy palace, with its tall white towers and long 
arcades, which breast yon mountain, among pompous 
groves and hanghig gardens, is the Generaliffe, a summer 
palace of the Moorish kings, to which they resorted during 
the sultry months, to enjoy a still more breezy region than 
that of the Alhambra. The naked summit of the height 
above it, where you behold some shapeless ruins, is the 
8illa del Moro, or Seat of the Moor; so called from having 
been a retreat of the unfortunate Boabdil during the time 
of an insurrection, where he seated himself and looked 
down mournfully upon his rebellious city. 

A murmuring somid of water now and then rises from 
the valley. It is from the aqueduct of yon Moorish mill 
nearly at the foot of the hill. The avenue of trees beyond 
is the Alameda, along the bank of the Darro, a favorite 
resort in evenings, and a rendezvous of lovers hi the sum- 
mer nights, when the guitar may be heard at a late hour 
from the benches along its walks. At present there are 
but a few loitering monks to be seen there, and a group of 
water-carriers from the fomitain of Avellanos. 

You start! "Tis nothing but a hawk we have frightened 
from his nest. This old tower is a comjjlete brooding-place 
for vagrant birds. The swallow and martlet abomid in 
every chink and cranny, and circle about it the Avhole day 
]ong; while at night, when all other birds have gone to 
rest, the moping owl comes out of its lurking-place, and 
utters its boding cry from the battlements. See how the 
hawk we have dislodged sweeps away below us, skimming 
over the tops of the trees, and sailing up to ruins above the 
Generalise. 

Let us leave this side of the tower and turn our eyes to 
the west. Here you behold in the distance a range of 
mountains boimdhig the Vega, the ancient barrier be'Uveen 



'Ji THE ALHAMBKA. 

Moslem Granada and the land of the Christians. Among 
the heights you may still discern warrior towns, whose gray 
walls and battlements seem of a piece with the rocks on 
which they are built; while here and there is a solitary 
atalaya, or watch-tower, mounted on some lofty point, and 
looking doAvn, as if it were from the sky, into the valleys 
on cither side. It was down the defiles of these mountain;-, 
by the pass of Lope, that the Christian armies descended 
into the Vega. It was round the base of yon gray and 
naked moimtain, almost insulated from the rest, ajid 
stretching its bald rocky promontoiy into the bosom of the 
l)lain, tliat the invading squadrons woukl come bursting 
into view, with flaunting banners and the clangor of 
drums and trumpets. How changed is the scene! Instead 
of the glittering line of mailed warriors, we behold the 
jiatient train of the toilful muleteer slowly moving along 
the skirts of the mountain. 

Behind that promontory is the eventful Bridge of Pinos, 
renowned for many a bloody strife between Moors and 
Christians; but still more renewed as being the place where 
Columbus was overtaken and called back by the messenger 
of Queen Isabella, just as he was departing in despair 
to carry his project of discovery to the Court of France. 

Behold another place famous in the history of the dis- 
coverer; yon line of walls and towers, gleaming in the 
morning sun in the very center of the Vega, the city of 
8anta Fe, built by the Catholic sovereigns during the siege 
of Granada, after a conflagration had destroyed their camp. 
It was to these walls that Columbus was called back by the 
heroic queen, and within them the treaty was concluded 
that led to the discovery of the Western World. 

Here, toward the south, the eye revels on the luxuriant 
beauties of the Vega; a blooming wilderness of grove and 
garden and teeming orchards, with the Xenil Avinding 
through it m silver links and feeding hmumerable rills, 
conducted through ancient Moorish chamiels, which main- 
tain the landscape in perpetual verdure. Here are the 
beloved bowers and gardens and rural retreats for which 
the Moors fought with such desperate valor. The very 
farm-houses and hovels, which are now inhabited by the 
1 toors, retain traces of arabesques and other tasteful decora- 
I ions, which show them to have been elegant residences in 
the days of the Moslems. 



THE ALHAMBRA. o5 

Beyond the embowered region of the Vega you behold, 
to the south, a h'ne of arid hills down which a long train of 
mules is slowly moving. It was from the summit of one 
of those hills (hat Ihi' mifortnnatc Boabdil cast back his 
last look upon Granada and gave vent to the agony of his 
soul. It is the spot famous in song and story, " The last 
sigh of the Moor/' 

Xow raise your eyes to the snowy summit of yon pile of 
mountains, shining like a white summer cloud on the blue 
sky. It is the Sierra Xevada, the pride and delight of 
Granada; the soin-ce of her cooling breezes and perpetual 
verdure, of her gushing fountains and perennial streams. 
It is this glorious pile of mountains that gives to Granada 
that combination of delights so rare in a southern city — 
the fresh vegetation, and the temperate airs of a northern 
climate, with the vivifying ardor of a trojoical sun, and the 
cloudless azure of a southern sky. It is this aerial treasury 
of snow, which, meltmg in proportion to the increase of 
the summer heat, sends down rivulets and streams through 
every glen and gorge of the Alpuxarras, diffusing emerald 
verdure and fertility throughout a chain of happy and 
sequestered valleys. 

These mountains may well be called the glory of 
Granada. They dominate the whole extent of Andalusia, 
and may be seen from its most distant parts. The muleteer 
hails them as he views their frosty peaks from the sultry 
level of the plain; and the Spanish mariner on the deck of 
his bark, far, far off, on the bosom of the blue Mediter- 
ranean, watches them with a pensive eye, thinks of de- 
lightful Granada, and chants in low voice some old romance 
about the Moors. 

But eiiough; the sun is high above the mountains, and is 
pouring liis full fervor upon our lieads. Already the ter- 
i-aced roof of the town is hot beneath our feet; let us aban- 
don it, and descend and refresh ourselves under the arcades 
by the Fountain of the Lions. 



REFLECTIONS 

ON" THE MOSLEM DOMINATION IK SPAIN. 

One of my favorite resorts is the balcony of the central 
window of the Hall of Embassadors, in the lofty Tower of 
Comares. I have just ])een seated there, enjoying the close 



uU THE ALHAMBRA, 

of a long brilliant day. The sun^ as lie sunk behind the 
purple mountains of Alhambra, sent a stream of effulgence 
up the valley of the Darro, that spread a m.elancholy pomp 
over the ruddy towers of the Alhambra, while the Vega^ 
covered with a slight sultry vapor that caught the setting 
ray, seemed spread out in the distance like a golden sea. 
i^s'ot a breath of air disturbed the stillness of the hour, and 
though the faint sound of music and merriment now and 
IJion arose from the gardens of the Darro, it but rendered 
more impressive the monumental silence of the pile which 
o\'ershadowed me. It was one of those hours and scenes in 
w^hich memory asserts an almost magical power, and, like 
the evening sun beaming on these moldering towers, sends 
back her retros]3ective rays to light up the glories of the 
13ast. 

As I sat Avatching the effect of the declinhig daylight 
upon this Moorish pile, I was led into a consideration of the 
light, elegant, and voluptuous character prevalent through- 
out its internal architecture, and to contrast it with the 
grand but gloomy solemnity of the Gothic edifices reared 
by the S^ianish conquerors. The very architecture thus 
bespeaks the 023j)osite and irreconcilable natures of the two 
war-like people who so long battled here for the mastery of 
the Penmsula. By degrees I fell into a course of musing 
upon the singular features of the Arabian or Morisco 
Spaniards, whose whole existence is as a tale that is told, 
and cei-tainly forms one of the most anomalous yet splendid 
episodes in history. Potent and durable as was their 
dommion, we have no one distinct title by which to desig- 
nate them. They were a nation, as it were, without a 
legitimate country or a name. A remote wave of the great 
Arabian inundation, cast upon the shores of Europe, they 
seemed to have all the impetus of the first rush of the tor- 
rent. Their course of conquest, from the rock of Gibraltar 
to the cliffs of the Pyrenees, w^as as rapid and brilliant as 
the Moslem victories of Syiia and Egypt. Nay, had they 
not been checked on the plains of Tours, all France, all 
Europe, might have been overrun with the same facility as 
the empires of the East, and the crescent might at this day 
have glittered on the fanes of Paris and of London. 

Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed 
hordes of Asia and Africa that formed this great irruption 
gave ujj the Moslem principles of conquest and sought to 



T tJ J!: A Lll A Mil K A . 3 r 

establish in Spain a peaceful and permanent dominion. 
As conquerors their heroism was onty equaled b}^ their 
moderation; and in both, for a time, they excelled the 
nations witli whom they contended. Severed from their 
native homes, they loved the land given them, as they sup- 
posed, by Allah, and strove to embellish it with everything 
that could administer to the happiness of man. Laying 
the foundations of their power in a system of wise and 
equable laws, diligently cultivathig the arts and sciences, 
and promoting agriculture, manufactures, and commerce, 
they gradually formed an empire mirivaled for its prosper- 
ity by any of the empires of Christendom; and diligently 
drawing round them the graces and refinements that 
marked the Arabian emjjire in the East at the time of its 
greatest civilization, they diffused the light of Oriental 
knowledge through the western regions of benighted 
Europe. 

The cities of Arabian S^^ain became the resort of Chris- 
tian artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful arts. 
The universities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and Granada 
were sought by the pale student from other lands, to ac- 
quamt himself with the sciences of the Arabs and the 
treasured lore of antiquity; the lovers of the gay sciences 
resorted to Cordova and Granada, to imbibe the poetry and 
music of the east; and the steel-clad warriors of the north 
hastened thither, to accomplish themselves in the graceful 
exercises and courteous usages of chivalry. 

If the Moslem monuments in Spain, if the Mosque of 
Cordova, the Alcazar of Seville, and the Alhambra of 
Granada, still bear inscriptions fondly boasting of the power 
and permanency of their dominion, can the boast be derid- 
ed as arrogant and vain? Generation after generation, 
century after century, had passed away, and still they 
maintained possession of the land. A period had elapsed 
longer than that which has passed since England was sub- 
jugated by the Xorman conqueror; and the descendants of 
Musa and Tarik might as little anticipate being driven into 
exile, across the same straits traversed by their triumphant 
ancestors, as the descendants of Eollo and William and 
their victorious peers may dream of being driven back to 
the shores of Normandy. 

With all this, however, the Moslem empire in Spain was 
but a brilliant exotic that took no permanent root in the 



^.S THE AIHAAfEPvA. 

soil it embellished. Severed from all their neighbors of 
the west by impassable barriers of faith and manners, and 
separated by seas and deserts from their kindred of the 
east, they were an isolated peoiile. Their whole existence 
was a prolonged thongli gallant and ehivalric struggle for 
a foothold in a nsnrped land. They were the ontposts and 
frontiers of Islamism. The Peninsula was the great battle- 
ground where the Gothic conquerors of the north and the 
Moslem conquerors of the east met and strove for mastery; 
and the fiery courage of the Arab was at length subdued 
by the obstinate and persevering valor of the Goth. 

^ Never was the annihilation of a people more complete 
than that of the Morisco Spaniards. Where are they? Ask 
the shores of Barbary and its desert 2:)laces. The exiled 
remnant of their once jDowerful empire disajDpeared among 
the barbarians of Africa, and ceased to be a nation. They 
have not even left a distinct name behind them, though for 
nearly eight centuries they were a distinct people. The 
home of their ado2:)tion and of their occujDation for ages 
refuses to acknowledge them but as invaders and usurpers. 
A few broken monuments are all that remain to bear wit- 
ness to their power and dominion, as solitary rocks left far 
in the interior bear testimony to the extent of some vast 
inundation. Such is the Alhambra. A Moslem j^ile in 
the midst of a Christian land; an Oriental palace amid the 
Gothic edifices of the west; an elegant memento of a brave, 
intelligent, and graceful people, wdio conquered, ruled, and 
passed away. 

THE HOUSEHOLD. 

It is time that I give some idea of my domestic arrange- 
ments in this singular residence. The royal palace of the 
Alhambra is intrusted to the care of a good old maiden 
dame called Dona Antonia Molina, but who, according to 
Spanish custom, goes by the more neighborly ajapellation 
of Tia Antonia (Aunt Antonia). She maintains the Moor- 
ish halls and gardens in order, and shows them to strangers; 
in consideration of which she is allowed all the perquisites 
received from visitors and all the produce of the gardens, 
exce23ting that she is expected to pay an occasional tribute 
of fruits and flowers to the governor. Her residence is in 
a corner of the i3alace, and her family consists of a nephew 



THE ALTIA:NrrPtA. rJ9 

and niece, the children of two different brothers. The 
nei^hew, Manuel Molina, is a young man of sterling worth 
and Spanish grayitj. He has served in the armies both in 
Spain and the West Indies, biit is now studying medicine 
in hopes of one day or other becoming physician to the 
fortress, a post worth at least a hundred and forty dollars 
a year. As to the niece, she is a plump little black-eyed 
Andalusian damsel named Dolores, but who, from her 
bright looks and cheerful disposition, merits a merrier 
name. She is the declared heiress of all her amit^s posses- 
sions, consisting of certain ruinous tenements in the for- 
tress, yielding a revenue of about one hundred and fifty 
dollars. I had not been long in the Alhambra before I 
discovered that a quiet courtship was going on between the 
discreet Manuel and his bright-eyed cousin, and that noth- 
ing was wanting to enable them to join their hands and 
expectations, but that he should receive his doctor's 
diploma, and purchase a dispensation from the pope, on 
account of their consanguinity. 

With the good Dame Antonia I have made a treaty, 
according to which she furnishes me with board and lodg- 
ing, while the merry-hearted little Dolores keej^s my apart- 
ment in order and officiates as handmaid at meal times. I 
have also at my command a tall, stuttering, yellow-haired 
lad named Pepe, who works in the garden, and would fain 
have acted as valet, but in this he was forestalled by Mateo 
Ximenes, "the son of the Alhambra. '^ This alert and 
officious wight has managed, somehow or other, to stick by 
me ever since I first encountered him at the outer gate of 
the fortress, and to weave himself into all my plans, until 
he has fairly appointed and installed himself my valet, 
cicerone, guide, guard, and historiographic squire; and I 
have been obliged to improve the state of his wardrobe, 
that he may not disgrace his various functions, so tiiat he 
has cast off his old brown mantle, as a snake does his skin, 
and now figures about the fortress with a smart Andalusian 
hat and jacket, to his infinite satisfaction and the great 
astonishment of his comrades. The chief fault of honest 
Mateo is an overanxiety to be useful. Conscious of having 
foisted himself into my employ, and that my simple and 
quiet habits render his situation a shiecure, he is at his 
wits' end to devise modes of making himself important to 
my welfare. I am, in a manner, the victim of his officious- 



40 THK ALllAlMTUiA. 

uess; I can not put my foot over the threshold of the 
palace to stroll about the fortress, but he is at my elbow to 
explain ever}^hing I see, and if I venture to ramble among 
the surroundiug Tiills, he insists upon attending me as a 
guard, though I vehemently suspect he would be more apt 
to trust to the length of his legs than the strength of his 
arms in case of attack. After all, however, the poor fellow 
is at times an amusing companion; he is simple-minded 
and of mfinite good-lumior, with the loquacity and gossip of 
a village barber, and knows all the small-talk of the place 
and its environs; but what he chiefly values himself on is 
his stock of local information, having the most marvelous 
stories to relate of every tower, and vault, and gate-way of 
the fortress, in all of which he places the most implicit faitli. 
Most of these he has derived, accordhig to his own account, 
from his grandfather, a little legendary tailor, who lived to 
the age of nearly a hundred years, during which he made 
but two migrations beyond the j)recincts of the fortress. 
His shop, for the greater part of a century, was the resort 
of a knot of venerable gossips, Avhere they would pass half 
the night talking about old times and the wonderful events 
and hidden secrets of the place. The whole living, mov- 
ing, thhiking, and acting of this little historical tailor had 
thus been bounded by the walls of the Alhambra; within 
them he had been born, within them he lived, breathed, 
and had his being; within them he died and was buried. 
Fortunately for posterity, his traditionary lore died not with 
him. The authentic Mateo, when an urchin, used to be 
an attentive listener to the narratives of his grandfather 
and of the gossip group assembled romid the shop board, 
and is thus possessed of a stock of valuable knowledge con- 
cerning the Alhambra not to be found in the books, and 
well worthy the attention of every curious traveler. 

Such are the personages that contribute to my domestic 
comforts in the Alhambra, and I question whether any of 
the potentates, Moslem or Christian, who have preceded 
me in the palace, have been waited upon with greater 
fidelity or enjoyed a serener sway. 

AVhen I rise"^ in the morning, Pepe, the stuttering lad, 
from the gardens brings me a tribute of fresh-culled 
flowers, which are afterward arranged in vases by the skill- 
ful hand of Dolores, who takes no small pride in the decora- 
tions of my chamber. My meals are made wherever 



THE ALTTAMBRA. 41 

caprice dictates; sometimes in one of the Moorish halls^ 
sometimes under the arcades of the Court of Lions^ sur- 
rounded b}^ flowers and fountains; and when I walk out T 
am conducted l:)y the assiduous Mateo to the most romantic 
retreats of tlie mountains and delicious haunts of the ad- 
jacent valleys^ not one of which ])ut is the scene of some 
wonderful tale. 

''J^'hough fond of passing tlie greater part of my day 
alone, yet I occasionally repair in the evenings to the lit lie 
domestic circle of Dona Antonia. This is generally held 
hi an old Moorish chamber, that serves for kitchen as well 
as hall, a rude fire-place having been made in one corner, 
the smoke from which has discolored the walls and almost 
obliterated the ancient arabesques. A window with a bal- 
cony overhanging the balcony of the Darro lets in the cool 
evening breeze, and here I take my frugal supper of fruit 
and milk, and mingle with the conversation of the family. 
There is a natural talent, or mother wit, as it is called, 
about the Spaniards, which renders them intellectual and 
agreeable companions, whatever may be their condition in 
life, or however imperfect may have been their education ; 
add to this, they are never vulgar; nature has endowed 
them with an inherent dignity of spirit. The good Tia 
Antonia is a woman of strong and intelligent, though un- 
cultivated mind, and the bright-eyed Dolores, though she 
has read but three or four books in the whole course of her 
life, has an engaghig mixture of naivete and good sense, 
and often surprises me by the pungency of her artless 
sallies. Sometimes the nephew entertains us by reading- 
some old comedy of Oalderon or Lope de Vega, to which 
he is evidently prompted by a desire to improve as well as 
amuse his cousin Dolores, though, to his great mortifica- 
tion, the little damsel generally falls asleep before the first 
act is completed. Sometimes Tia Antonia has a little bevy 
of humble friends and dependents, the inhabitants of tlio 
adjacent hamlet, or the wives of the invalid soldiers. These 
look up to her with great deference as the custodian of the 
palace, and pay their court to her by bringing the news of 
the place, or the rumors that may have straggled up from 
Granada. In listening to the evening gossipings, I have 
picked up many curious facts illustrative of the manners of 
the people and the peculiarities of the neighborhood. 

These are simple details of simjDle ]3leasures; it is the 



4? THE ALHAMBRA. 

nature of the place alone that gives them interest and im- 
portance. 1 tread hamited ground and am surrounded by 
romantic associations. From earliest boj^hood., when^ on 
the banks of. the Hudson, I first j^oi-ed over the pages of an 
old Spanish story about the wars of Granada^ that city has 
ever been a subject of my waking dreams, and often have I 
trod in fancy the romantic halls of the Alhambra. Behold 
for once a day-dream realized; yet I can scarcely credit my 
senses or believe that I do indeed inhabit the palace of 
J^oabdil, and look down from its balconies upon chivali'ic 
Granada. As I loiter through the Oriental chambers, and 
hear the murmuring of fountains and the song of the 
nightingale; as I inhale the odor of the rose and feel the 
influence of the balmy climate, I am almost tempted to 
fancy myself in the Paradise of Mohammed, and that the 
plump little Dolores is one of the bright-eyed houris, des- 
tined to administer to the happiness of true believers. 



THE TRUANT. 

Stxce writing the foregoing pages, we have had a scene 
of petty tribulation in the Alhambra, which has thrown a 
cloud over the sunny countenance of Dolores. This little 
damsel has a female passion for pets of all kinds, from the 
sujDerabundant kindness of her disposition. One of the ruined 
courts of the Alhambra is thronged with her favorites. A 
stately peacock and his hen seem to hold regal sway here 
over pompous turkeys, querulous guinea-fowls, and a rabble 
rout of common cocks and hens. The great delight of 
Dolores, however, has for some time j^ast been centered in 
a youthful pair of pigeons, who have lately entered into the 
lioly state of wedlock, and who have even supplanted a 
tortoise-shell cat and kitten in her affections. 

As a tenement for them to commeiice housekeepuig she 
had fitted up a small chamber adjacent to the kitchen, the 
window of which looked into one of the quiet Moorish 
courts. Here they lived in happy ignorance of any world 
beyond the court and its sunny roofs. In vain they 
aspired to soar above the battlements, or to momit to the 
summit of the towers. Their virtuous union was at length 
crowned by two spotless and milk-white eggs, to the great 
joy of their cherishing little mistress. Nothing could be 



THE ALHAMJJKA. 43 

more praiseworthy than the conduct of the youiig married 
folks on this interestmg occasion. They took turns to sit 
upon the nest until the eggs were hatched, and while their 
callow progeny required warmth and shelter. While one 
thus stayed at home, the other foraged abroad for food, 
and brought home abundant supplies. 

This scene of conjugal felicity has suddenly met with a 
reverse. Early this' morning, as Dolores was feediug the 
male pigeon, she took a fancy to give him a peep at the 
great world. Opening a window, therefore, which looks 
down upon the valley of the Dari'o, she launched him at 
once beyond the walls of the Alhambra. For the first time 
in his life the astonished biixl liud to try the full vigor of 
his wings. He swept down into the valley, and then rising 
upward with a surge, soared almost to the clouds. Never 
before had he risen to such a height or experienced such 
delight in flyhig, and like a young spendthrift just come 
to his estate, he seemed giddy with excess of liberty, and 
with the boundless field of action suddenly opened to him. 
For the whole day he has been circling about in cajDricious 
flights, from tower to tower and from tree to tree. Every 
attempt has been made in vain to lure him back, by scat- 
tering grain upon the roofs; he seems to have lost all 
thought of home, of his tender helpmate and his callow 
young. To add to the anxiety of Dolores, he has been 
johied by two palomas ladrones, or robber pigeons, whose 
instinct "it is to entice wandering pigeons to their own dove- 
cotes. The fugitive, like many other thoughtless youths 
on their first launching upon the Avorld, seems quite fasci- 
nated with these knowhig but graceless companions, who 
have undertaken to show him life and introduce him to 
society. He has been soaring with them over all the roofs 
and steeples of Granada. A thunder-shower has passed 
over the city, but he has not sought his home; night has 
closed in, and still he comes not. To deepen the pathos of 
the ait'air, the female pigeon, after remaining several hours 
on the nest without being relieved, at length went forth to 
seek her recreant mate; but stayed away so long that the 
young ones perished for want of the warmth and shelter of 
tlie parent bosom. 

At a late hoin- in the evening, word was brought to 
Dolores that the truant bird had been seen upon the towers 
of the (jeneralilfe. Now, it so happens that the adminis- 



U THE ALHAMBRA. 

trador of that ancient palace has likewise a dove-cote, 
among the inmates of which are said to be two or three of 
these inveigling birds, the terror of all neighboring pigeon- 
fanciers. Dolores immediately concluded that the two 
feathered sharpers who had been seen with her fugitive 
were these bloods of the Generaliffe. A council of war was 
forthwith held in the chamber of -Tia Antonia. The 
Generaliffe is a distinct jurisdiction from the Alhambra, 
and of course some punctilio, if not jealousy, exists be- 
tween their custodians. It was determined, therefore, to 
send Pepe, the stuttering lad of the gardens, as embassador 
to the admin istrador, requesting that if such a fugitive 
should be found in his dominions, he might be given ujd as 
a subject of the x\lhambra. Ferpe departed, accordingly, 
on his dij^lomatic expedition, through the moonlit groves 
and avenues, but returned in an hour with the afflicting 
intelligence that no such bird was to be found in the dove- 
cote of the Generaliffe. The administrador, however, 
pledged his sovereign word, that if such a vagrant should 
a^Dpear there, even at midnight, he should instantly be 
arrested and sent back prisoner to his little black-eyed 
mistress. Thus stands this melancholy affair, which has 
occasioned much distress throughout the palace, and has 
sent the inconsolable Dolores to a sleepless jdIIIow. 

" Sorrow endureth for a night, '^ says the proverb, ^' but 
joy ariseth in the morning. ^^ The first object that met my 
eyes on leaving my room this morning was Dolores with 
the truant j^igeon in her hand, and her eyes sparkling with 
joy. He had appeared at an early hour on the battle- 
ments, hovering shyly about from roof to roof, but at 
length entered the window and surrendered himself 23ris- 
oner. He gained little credit, however, by his return, for 
the ravenous manner in which he devoured the food set 
before him, showed that, like the Prodigal Son, he had been 
driven home by sheer famine. Dolores upbraided him for 
his faithless conduct, calling him all manner of vagrant 
names, though, woman-like, she fondled him at the same 
time to her bosom and covered him with kisses. I ob- 
served, how^ever, that she had taken care to clij) his wings 
to prevent all future soarings; a ])reoaiition which I men- 
tion for the benefit of all those who have truant wives or 
w andering liusbands. More than one valuable moral might 
be drawn from the story of Dolores and her pigeon. 




THE ALHAMBRA. 45 



THE AUTHOR^S CHAMBER. 

Ok taking up my abode in the Alhambra^ one end of a 
suite of empty chambers of modern architecture, intended 
for the residence of the governor, was fitted up for my 
reception. It was in front of the palace, looking forth 
upon the esi^lanade. The further end communicated with 
a cluster of little chambers, partly Moorish, partly modern, 
inhabited by Tia Antonia and her family. These termi- 
nated in a large room which serves the good old dame for 
parlor, kitchen, and hall of audience. It had boasted of 
some splendor in the time of the Moors, but a fire-place 
had been built in one corner, the smoke from which had 
discolored the walls, nearly obliterated the ornaments, and 
spread a somber tint over the whole. From these gloomy 
apartments, a narrow, blind corridor and a dark, winding 
staircase led down an angle of the Tower of Oomares; 
groping down which, and opening a small door at the bot- 
tom, you are suddenly dazzled by emerging into the brill- 
iant ante-chamber of the Hall of Embassadors, with the 
fountain of the Court of the Alberca sparkling before you. 

I was dissatisfied with being lodged in a modern and 
frontier apartment of the j)alace, and longed to ensconce 
myself in the very heart of the building. 

As I was rambling one day about the Moorish halls, I 
found, in a remote gallery, a door which I had not before 
noticed, communicating apj^arently with an extensive 
aj)artment locked up from the pui3lic. Here then was a 
mystery. Here was the haunted wing of the castle. I 
procured the key, however, without difficulty. The door 
opened to a range of vacant chambers of European archi- 
tecture, though built over a Moorish arcade, along the 
little garden of Lindaraxa. There were two lofty rooms, 
the ceilings of which were of deep panel-work of cedar, 
richly and skillfully carved with fruits and flowers, inter- 
mingled with grotesque masks or faces, but broken in 
many places. The walls had evidently, in ancient times, 
been himg Avilh damask, but were now naked, and scrawled 
over with the insigiiif leant names of aspiring travelers; the 
windows, which Avere dismantled and open to wind and 
weather^ looked into the garden of Lindaraxa, and the 



Ifj lllE ALHAMI^KA. 

orange and cifcron-trees hung their branehes into the cham- 
bers. Beyond these rooms were two saloons, less lofty, 
looking also into the garden. In the compartments of the 
paneled ceiling were baskets .of fruit and garlands of 
flowers, painted by no mean hand, and in tolerable preser- 
vation. The walls had also been painted in fresco in the 
Italian style, but the paintuigs Avere nearly obliterated. 
1'he windows were in the same shattered state as in the 
other chambers. 

This fanciful suite of rooms terminated in an open gal- 
lery with balustriides, which ran at right angles along 
another side of the garden. The whole apartment had a 
delicacy and elegance hi its decorations, and there was 
something so choice and sequestered in its situation, along 
this retired little garden, that awakened an interest in its 
history. I found, on inquiry, that it was an apartment 
fitted up by Italian artists, in the early joart of the last 
century, at the time when Philip V. and the beautiful 
Elizabetta of Parma were expected at the Alhambra, and 
was destined for the queen and the ladies of her train. 
One of the loftiest chambers had been her sleeping-room, 
and a narrow staircase leading from it, though now walled ' 
uj), opened to the delightful belvedere, originally a mirador 
of the Moorish sultanas, but fitted up as a boudoir for the 
fair Elizabetta, and which still retains the name of the 
Tocador, or Toilet of the Queen. The sleeping-room I have 
mentioned commanded from one window a prosjoect of the 
Generaliffe and its embowered terraces; mider another 
window played the alabaster fountain of the garden of 
Lindaraxa. That garden carried my thoughts still further 
back, to the period of another reign of beauty, to the days 
of the Moorish sultanas, " How beauteous is this garden!'' 
says an Arabic inscription, " where the flowers of the earth 
vie with the stars of heaven! what can compare with the 
vase of yon alabaster fountain filled with crystal watei-? 
Nothing but the moon in her fullness, sliming in the midst 
of an unclouded sky!'' 

Centuries had elapsed, yet how much of this scene of 
apparently fragile beauty remained ! The garden of Lin- 
daraxa was still adorned witli iiowers; ihe fountain still 
presented its crystal mirror; it is true, the alabaster had 
lost its whiteness, and the basin beneath, overrmi witli 
weeds, had become the nestling-place of the lizard; but 



there was somethfa^hTW^ay *f «"1^'^^=«^ [h« 
interest of the scene, speakmg, as it did, of that mutability 
which is the irrevocable lot of man and all his works. The 
desolation, too, of these chambers, once the abode of the 
woud and elegant Elizabetta, had a more touchmg charm 
For me than /l had beheld them in their pristine splendor^ 
iuttoing with the pageantry of a court, and I determined 
at once to take up my quarters m this apartment. 

My determination excited great surprise m the family 
who could not imagine any rational inducement ioi the 
Ihoice of so solitary, remote, and fortorn an apartment. 
The good Tia Antonia considered it highly dangerous 
The neighborhood, she said, was infested by vagrants; the 
caverns of the axljacent hills swarmed with gypsies; the 
palace was ruinous and easy to be entered m many parts; 
Sdihe rumor of a stranger quartered alone m one of the 
ruined apartments, out of the hearing, of t^^e lest of tiie 
inhabitants, might tempt unwelcome visitors in the night, 
SSy as foreigners'are always supposed to be wel 
stocked with money. Dolores represented the frightful 
oneHnes of the place; nothing but bats and owls flitting 
about; then there were a fox and a wild-cat that kept about 
the vaults and roamed about at night. 

I was not to be diverted from my humor; so callmg in 
the Tsistance of a carpenter, and the ever-officious Mateo 
xL^nes the doors aiid whidows were soon placed m 

a state of tolerable security. ^ . ti,„ c^ct ,iio-V>t 

With all these precautions, I must confess the first night 
I passed in these quarters was inexpressibly dreary. I was 
esSrted by the whole family to my chamber, and there 
taking leave of me, and retirmg along the waste ante- 
chamber and echoing galleries, remnided me of those 
hSoblin stories where the hero is left to accomplish the 
n^l venture of a haimted house. 

Soon the thoughts of the fair Elizabetta and the beauties 
of her court, whShad once graced these chambers, now, by 
a perversion of fancy, added to the g oom. Here was the 
sclie of their transient gayety and lovelmess; here w'Bre 
the very traces of their elegance and fjoyment; but what 
and wfore were thev? Dust and ashes! tenants of the 
tomb! phantoms of the memory! 

Tvague and indescribable <^^V'f^''''f^^,''^lyZ 
I would fain have ascribed it to the thoughts of robbers. 



J.6 TJIE ALUA.Mi-.KA. 

awakened by the evening^ s conversation, but I felt that it 
was something more unusual and absurd. In a word, the 
long-buried impressions of the nursery were reviving and 
asserting their power over my imagination. Ever^hing 
began to be affected by the workings of my mind. The 
Avliispering of the wind among the citron-trees beneath my 
window had somethmg sinister. I cast my eyes into the 
garden of Lhidaraxa; the groves presented a gulf of 
shadows; the thickets had indistinct and ghastly shapes. 1 
was glad to close the window; but my chamber itself be- 
came infected. A bat liad found its way in, and flitted 
about my head and athwart my solitary lamp; the grotesque 
faces carved in the cedar ceiling seemed to mope and mow 
at me. 

Rousing myself, and half smiling at this temporary 
weakness, I resolved to brave it, and, taking lamp in hand, 
sallied forth to make a tour of the ancient palace. Not- 
withstanding every mental exertion, the task was a severe 
one. The rays of my lamp extended to but a limited dis- 
tance around me; I walked, as it were, in a mere halo of 
light, and all beyond w^as thick darkness. The vaulted 
corridors were as caverns; the vaults of the halls Avere lost 
in gloom; what unseen foe might not be lurking before or 
behind me; my own shadow -plsijing about the walls, and 
the echoes of my own footsteps disturbed me. 

In this excited state, as I was traversing the great Hall 
of Embassadors, there were added real sounds to these 
conjectural fancies. Low moans and indistinct ejaculations 
seemed to rise, as it Avere, from beneath my feet. I paused 
and listened. They then appeared to resound from with- 
out the tow^er. Sometimes they resembled the bowlings of 
an animal, at others they were stifled shrieks, mingled with 
articulate ravhigs. The thrilling effect of these sounds in 
that still hour and singular place destroyed all inclination 
to continue my lonely perambulation. I returned to my 
chamber with more alacrity than I had sallied forth, and 
drew my breath more freely when once more within its 
Avails and the door bolted behind me. 

When I an^oke in the morning, with the sun tihining m 
at my window, and lighting up ev^ery part of the builaing 
with its cheerful and truth-telling beams, I could scarcely 
recall the shadoAVs and fancies conjured up by the gloom 
of the preceding night, or believe that the scenes around 



TllK ALllA.MBliA. iK 

me, SO naked and ajiparent, could have been clothed with 
such miagmary horrors. 

Still, the dismal howlings and ejaculations I had heard 
were not ideal; but they were soon accounted for by my 
handmaid Dolores — being the ravings of a poor maniac,, a 
brother of her aunt, who was subject to violent paroxysms, 
during which he was confined in a vaulted room beneath 
the Hall of Embassadors. 



THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. 

I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first 
taking possession of it; a few evenings have produced a 
thorough change in the scene and in my feelings. The 
moon, which then was invisible, has gradually gained upon 
the nights, and now rolls in full splendor above the towers, 
pouring a flood of tempered light into every court and 
hall. The garden beneath my window is gently lighted 
up; the orange and citron-trees are tipped with silver; the 
fountain sparkles in the moonbeams, and even the blush 
of the rose is faintly visible. 

I have sat for hours at my window, inhaling the sweet- 
ness of the garden, and musing on the checkered features 
of those whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant 
memorials around. Sometimes I have issued forth at 
midnight when everything was quiet, and have wandered 
over the whole building. Who can do justice to a moon- 
light night in such a climate and in such a place! The 
temperature of an Andalusian midnight, in summer, is 
perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up into a purer atmos- 
phere; there is a serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirits, 
an elasticity of frame that render mere existence enjoy- 
ment. The ett'ect of moonlight, too, on the Alhambra has 
something like enchantment. Every rejit and chasm of 
time, every moldering tint and weather stain disaj^pears; 
the marble resumes its original whiteness; the long colon- 
nades brighten in tlje moonbetims; the halls are ilhmiinated 
with a softened radiance^ mitil the whole edifice reminds 
one of the enchanted palace of an Arabian tale= 

At such time I have ascended to the little pavilion, called 
tlie Queen's Toilet, to enjoy its varied and extensive pros- 
pect. To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra 



50 THE ALHAMBKA. 

Nevada would gleam like silver clouds against the darker 
firmament;, and ail the outlines of the mountain would be 
softened, yet delicately defined. My delight, however, 
would be to lean over the parapet of the Tocador, and gaze 
down upon Granada, spread out like a map below me, all 
buried in deep repose, and its white ^^alaces and convents 
sleeping, as it were, in the moonshine. 

Sometimes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets 
from some party of dancers lingering in the Alameda; at 
other times I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar, and 
the notes of a single voice rising from some solitary street, 
and have pictured to myself some youthful cavalier sere- 
nading his lady's Avindow, a gallant custom of former 
days, but now sadly on the decline, exce2)t in the remote 
towns and villages of Spain. 

Such are the scenes that have detained me for many an 
hour loitering about the courts and balconies of the castle, 
cnjo3dng that mixture of reverie and sensation which steal 
away existence in a southern climate — and it has been 
ahnost morning before I have retired to my bed, and been 
lulled to sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of 
Lindaraxa. 



INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

I HAVE often observed that the more proudly a mansion 
has been tenanted in the day of its prosperity, the humbler 
are its mhabitants in the day of its decline, and that the 
palace of the king commonly ends in behig the nestling- 
place of the beggar. 

The Alhambra is in a ra^, id state of similar transition ; 
whenever a tower falls to decay, it is seized upoji l.)y some 
tatterdemalion family, who become joint tenants with the 
bats and owls of its gilded halls, and hang their rags, lliosc 
standards of i:)overty, out of its windows aiid loop-holes. 

I have amused myself with remarking some of the motley 
characters that have thus usurjDed the ancient abode of 
royalty, and who seem as if placed hero to give a farcical 
termination to the drama of human pride. One of these 
even bears the mockery of a royal title. It is a little old 
woman named Maria Antonia Sabonea, but who goes by 
the appellation of la Reyna Otiquina, or the Cockle Qtieen. 
She is small enough to i>e a fairy, and a fairy she may be^ 



THE ALHAMUR.V. 



tor audit I cau find out, for no one seems to know her 
or gl^ Her habitation is a kind of closet under the outer 
Bt&e of the palace, and she sits in he cool stone cor- 
ri"or plySg he ■ "ecdle and singing from mormng till 
nS^t.^with a ready Joke for every ^f.^iit losses to 
though one of the poorest, she isoueot tli^'nei nest little 
womm breathing. Her great merit is a gift for stoiy-tell- 
Te havhie I verily believe, as many stories at hor com- 
ml'idTthe inexhiustible Scheherezat c of the thousand 
Kl one ni'its. Some of these I have heard her relate m 
11^ (° ™ing tertulias of Dona Antonia, at which she is oc- 
o'l^ionallv a humble attendant. 

'n a th re must be some fairy gift about tins mysterious 
little old woman, would appear from her ftaordina y 
luck since, notwithstanding her bemg very little, veiy 
ugt' aiTvery poor, she has 1ml, according to her own 
SSrfive hvwbands and a half; reckoning as a half, 
one, a yomig dragoon who died durmg courtship. 

A rival personage to this little fairy queen is a portlj » d 
fel ow with a bottle nose, who goes about m a rusty gaib, 
with a cocked hat of oil-skin and a red cockade Ho is 
one of the legitimate sons of the Alhambra, and has lived 
here all his life, filling various oflices, such as Deputy 
Xazil. sexton of the parochial church, and marker of^a 
fiv?s court established at the foot of one of the towers. He 
s as poo -as a rat. but as proud as he is ragged, boastmg 
of his descent from the illustrious house of Aguilar, from 
whMi ~ Gonsalvo of Cordova the Gmid Captain 
W.V be 4tulllv bears the name of Alonzo de Agmlar, so 
S^v^ir iShistory of the conquest thougi fte grace- 
less wa<rs of the fortress have given him the title ot el 
pZl7c\mfo, or the Holy Father, the usual appellation of 
the pope! which I h«^ thought too sacred m he eye of 
true Catiiolics to be thus ludicrously applied. It is a 
rmsicareaprice of fortune, to W-^<^-l-\^f,f^^X^ 
person of this tatterdemalion a namesake ancl descendant 
of he proud Alonzo de Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian 
chivalry^e^hig an almost mendicant existence about this 
once aughty fol-tress, which his ancestor aided to reduce ; 
vet sudi might have been the lot of the descendants of 
Agamemnon and Achilles had they Imgered about the 

""of thirmotley community I find the family of my gos- 



52 THE ALHAMBRA. 

HiiJiug Bquirc Mateo Ximcues to form, from their numbers 
at least, a very important part. Ilk boast of being a son 
of the Alhambra is not unfomided. This family has in= 
habited the fortress ever smce the tnnc of the conquest, 
handing down a hereditary poverty from father to son, not 
one of them having ever been known to be Avorth a 
marevedi. His father, by trade a ribbon weaver, and who 
succeeded the historical tailor as the head of the family, is 
now near seventy years of age, and lives in a hovel of reeds 
and j^laster, built by his own hands, just above the iron 
gate. The furniture consists of a crazy bed, a table, and 
two or three chairs, a wooden chest, containing his clotlies, 
and the archives of his family; that is to say, a few papers 
concerning old lawsuits which he can not read; but the 
pride of his heart is a blazon of the arms of the family, 
brilliantly colored and suspended in a frame against the 
wall, clearly demonstrating by its quarterings the various 
noble houses with which this poverty-stricken brood claim 
affinity. 

As to Mateo himself, he has done his utmost to perpetu- 
ate his line, having a wife and a numerous progeny who 
inhabit an almost dismantled hovel in the hamlet. "^ How 
they manage to subsist. He only who sees into all mysteries 
can tell — the subsistence of a Spanish family of the kind is 
always a riddle to me; yet they do subsist, and, what is 
more, appear to enjoy their existence. The wife takes her 
holy-day stroll in the Paseo of Granada, with a child in her 
arms, and half a dozen at her heels, and the eldest daugh- 
ter, now verging into womanhood, dresses her hair with 
flowers, and dances gayly to the castanets. 

There are two classes of people to whom life seems one 
long holy-day — the very rich and the very poor; one because 
they need do nothing, the other because they have nothing 
to do; but there are none who understand the art of doii^g 
nothing and living upon nothing better than the poor classes 
of Spain. Climate does one half and temperament the 
rest. Give a Spaniard the shade in summer, and the sun 
in winter, a little bread, garlic, oil, and garbanzos, an old 
brown cloak and a guitar, and let the world roll on as it 
pleases. Talk of poverty, with him it has no disgrace. It 
sits upon him with a grandioso style, like his ragged cloak. 
He is a hidalgo even when in rags. 

The "sons of the Alhambra'' are an eminent illustra- 



THE ALHAMBRA. o?, 

tion of this practical pliilosopliy. As the Moors imagined 
that the celestial paradise hmig over this favored spot^ so 1 
am inclined,, at times, to fancy that a gleam of the golden 
age still lingers about this ragged community. They pos- 
sess nothing, Ihey do nothing, they care for nothing. 
Yet, though apparently idle all the week, they are as ob- 
servant of all holy-days and saints^ days as the most labori- 
ous artisan. They attend all fetes and dancings in Granada 
and its vicmity, light bontires on the hills on St. John 's 
Eve, and have lately danced away the moonlight nights, 
on the harvest home of a small field of wheat withi]i the 
precincts of the fortress. 

Before concluding these remarks, I must mention one of 
the amusements of the place which has particularly struck 
me. I had repeatedly observed a long, lean fellow perched 
on the top of one of the towers, maneuvering two or three 
fishing-rods, as though he were angling for the stars. I 
was for some time perplexed by the evolutions of this aerial 
fisherman, and my perplexity increased on observing others 
employed in like manner, on different parts of the battle- 
ments and bastions; it was not until I consulted Mateo 
Ximenes that I solved the mystery. 

It seems that the pure and airy situation of this fortress 
has rendered it, like the castle of Macbeth, a prolific 
breeding-place for swallows and martlets, who sport about 
its towers in myriads, with the holy-day glee of urchins 
just let loose from school. To entrap these birds in their 
giddy circlings, with hooks baited with flies, is one of the 
favorite amusements of the ragged " sons of the Alham- 
bra,'^ who, with the good-for-nothing ingenuity of arrant 
idlers, have thus invented the art of angling in the sky. 



THE BALCONY. 

In the Hall of Embassadors, at the central window, 
there is a balcony of which I have already made mention. 
It projects like a cage from the face of the tower, high in 
midair, above the tops of the trees that grow on the steep 
hill-side. It answers me as a kind of observatory, where I 
often take my seat to consider, not merely the heavens 
above, but the " earth beneath.'^ Besides the magnificent 
prospect which it commands, of mountain, valley^ and 



54 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Vega, there is a busy little scene of human life laid open 
to inspection immediately below. At the foot of the hill 
is an alameda or public walk, which, though not so fashion- 
able as the more modern and splendid paseo of the Xenil, 
still boasts a varied and picturesque concourse, especially 
on holy-days and Sundays. Hither resort the small gentry 
of the suburbs, together with priests and friars, who walk 
for appetite and digestion; majos and majas, the beaus and 
belles of the lower classes in their Andalusian dresses; 
swagging contrabandistas, and sometimes half-muffled and 
mysterious loungers of the higher ranks, on some silent 
assignation. 

It is a moving picture of Spanish life whicli I delight to 
study; and as the naturalist has his microscope to assist 
him in his curious investigations, so I have a small pocket- 
telescope which brings the countenances of the motley 
groups so close as almost at times to make me think I can 
divine their conversation by the play and expression of 
their features. I am thus, in a manner, an mvisible ob- 
server, and without quitting my solitude, can throw myself 
in an instant into the midst of society — a rare advantage to 
one of somewhat shy and quiet habits. 

Then there is a considerable suburb lying below the 
Alhambra, filling the narrow gorge of the valley, and ex- 
tending up the opposite hill of the Albaycin. Many of the 
houses are built m the Moorish style, round patios or courts 
cooled by fountains and open to the sky; and as the m- 
habitants pass much of their time m these courts and on 
the terraced roofs during the summer season, it follows 
that many a glance at their domestic life may be obtained 
by an aerial spectator like myself, who can look down on 
them from the clouds. 

I enjoy, in some degree, the advantages of the student 
in the famous old Spanish story, who beheld all Madrid 
unroofed for his inspection; and my gossiping squire, 
Mateo Ximenes, officiates occasionally as my Asmodeus, 
to give me anecdotes of the different mansions and their 
inhabitants. 

I prefer, however, to form conjectural histories for my- 
self; and thus can sit u}^ aloft for hours, weaving from 
casual incidents and indications that pass under my eye 
the whole tissue of scliemes, intrigues, and occupations 
caa'rying on by certain of the busy mortals below us. 



The Alhambra. 65 

There is scarce a pretty face or striking figure that I daily 
see, about whioh I have not thus gradually framed "a 
dramatic story; though some of my characters will ocea= 
sionally act in direct opposition to the part assigned them^ 
and disconcert my whole drama. 

A few days since, as I was reconnoiteriiig ^^'ilh my glass 
the streets of the Albaycin, I beheld the procession of a 
]iovice about to take the veil, and remarked various cii-- 
(tLimstances that excited the strongest sympathy in the fate 
of the youthful being thus about to be consigned to a living- 
tomb. I ascertained, to -my satisfaction, that she was 
beautiful; and, by the paleness of her cheek, that she was 
a victim, rather than a votary. She was arrayed in bridal 
garments, and decked with a chaplet of white flowers; but 
her heart evidently revolted at this mockery of a spiritual 
miion, and yearned after its earthly loves. A tall, stern- 
lookhig man walked near her in the procession; it was 
evidently the t5a'annical father, who, from some bigoted or 
sordid motive, had compelled this sacrifice. Amid the 
crowd was a dark, handsome youth, in Andalusian garb, 
who seemed to fix on her an eye of agony. It was doubt- 
less the secret lover from whom she was forever to be 
separated. My indignation rose as I noted the malignant 
exultation painted in the countenances of the attendant 
monks and friars. The procession arrived at the chapel of 
the convent; the sun gleamed for the last time upon the 
chaplet of the poor novice as she crossed the fatal threshold 
and disapj)eared from sight. The throng poured in with 
cowl, and cross, and minstrelsy. The lover paused for a 
moment at the door; I could understand the tumult of his 
feelings, but he mastered thom and entered. There was a 
long interval — I pictured to myself the scene passuig with- 
in. The poor novice despoiled of her transient finery — 
clothed in the conventual garb; the bridal chaplet taken 
from her brow; her beautiful head shorn of its long silken 
tresses — T heard her murmur the irrevocable vow — I saw 
her extended on her bier; tlie death pall spread over; the 
funeral service performed that proclaimed her dead to the 
world; her sighs were drowned in the wailing anthem of 
the nuns and the sepulchral tones of the organ — the father 
looked, unmoved, without a tear — the lover — no — my fancy 
refused to portray the anguit^h of the lover — there the pict- 
ure remained a blank. The ceremony was over; the crowd 



:;(] THE ALTTAMLRA. 

again issued forth to behold tlie day and mingle in the 
joyous stir of life — but the victim Avith her bridal chaj^let 
Avas no longer there — the door of the conrent closed that 
secured her from the world forever. I saw the father and 
the lover issue forth — they were in earnest conversation— 
the young man was violent m his gestures, when the wall 
of a house intervened and shut them from my sight. 

That evening I noticed a solitary light twinkling from ii 
remote lattice of the convent. There, said I, the unhapj^y 
novice sits weeping in her cell, while her lover paces the 
street below in unavailing anguish. 

The officious Mateo interrupted my meditations and de- 
stroyed, in an instant, the cobweb tissue of my fancy. 
AVitii his usual zeal he had gathered facts concerning the 
scene that had interested me. The heroine of my romance 
was neither young nor handsome — she had no lover — she 
had entered the convent of her own free will, as a respect- 
able asylum, and was one of the cheerfulest residents within 
its walls. 

I felt at first half vexed with the nun for being thus 
happy in her cell, in contradiction to all the rules of ro- 
mance, but diverted my sj^leen by watching, for a day or 
two, the pretty coquetries of a dark-eyed brunette, who, 
from the covert of a balcony shrouded with flowering 
shrubs and a silken awning, was carrying on a mysterious 
correspondence with a handsome, dark, well-whiskered 
cavalier in the street beneath her window. Sometimes I 
saw him at an early hour, stealing forth, wrapped to the 
eyes in a mantle. Sometimes he loitered at the corner, in 
various disguises, apj^arently waiting for a private signal to 
slip into the bower. Then there was a tinkling of a guitar 
at night, and a lantern shifted from 23lace to place in the 
balcony. I imagined another romantic intrigue like that 
of Almaviva, but was again disconcerted in all my suj^po- 
sitions by bemg informed that the supposed lover was the 
husband of the lady, and a noted contral)andista, and that 
all his mysterious signs and movements had doubtless 
some smuggling scheme in view. 

Scarce had the gray dawn streaked the sky and the earli- 
est cock crowed from the cottages of the hill-side, when 
the suburbs gave sign of reviving animation; for the fresh 
hours of dawning are precious in the summer season in a 



THE ATJIAMriEA. u7 

sultry climate. All are anxious to get the start of the sun 
in the business of the day. The muluteer drives forth his 
loaded train for the journey; the traveler slings his carbine 
behind his saddle and mounts his steed at the gate of the 
hostel. The brown peasant urges liis loitering donkeys, 
laden with j^aniers of sunny fruit and fresh, dewy vege- 
tables; for already the thrifty housewives are hastening to 
tlie market. 

The sun is up and sparkles along the valley, topping the 
transparent foliage of the groves. The matin bells resound 
melodiously through the pure, bright air, announcing Uw. 
hour of devotion. The muleteer halts his burdened" ani- 
mals before tJie chapel, thrusts his staft' through his belt 
behmd, and enters with hat hi hand, smoothing his coal- 
black hair, to hear a mass, and j^ut up a prayer for a pros- 
perous wayfaring across the Sierra. 

And now steals forth with fairy foot the gentle senora, 
in trim busquma, with restless fan in hand and dark eye 
flashing from beneath her gracefully folded mantilla. She 
seeks some w^ell-frequented church to offer up her orisons; 
but the nicely adjusted dress, the dainty shoe, and cobweb 
stocking, the raven tresses scrupulously braided, the fresh- 
plucked rose that gleams among them like a gem, show 
that earth divides with heaven the empire of her thoughts. 

As the mornhig advances, the din of labor augments on 
every side; the streets are thronged with man and steed, 
and beast of burden; the universal movement produces a 
hum and murmur like the surges of the ocean. As the 
sun ascends to his meridian, the hum and bustle gradually 
decline; at the height of noon there is a i^ause; the pant- 
ing city sinks into lassitude, and for several hours there is 
a general repose. The windows are closed, the curtains 
drawn, the inhabitants retired into the coolest recesses of 
their mansions. The full-fed monk snores in his dormi- 
tory. Ilie brawny porter lies stretched on the pavement 
beside his burden. The peasant and the laborer sleep 
beneath the trees of the Alameda, lulled by the sultry 
chirping of the locust. The sti-eets are deserted, except by 
the water-carrier, who refreshes the ear by proclaiming the 
merits of his sparkling beverage — '' Colder than mountain 
snow.^^ 

As the sun declines, there is again a gradual reviving, 
and when the vesper-bell rings out its sinking knell, all 



58 THE ALHAMEJIA. 

iiiiture seems to rejoice that the tyrant of the day has 
fallen. 

Now begms the bustle of enjoyment. The citizens pour 
forth to breathe the evening air, and revel away the brief 
twilight in the walks and gardens of the Darro and the 
Xenil. 

As the night closes, the motley scene assumes new feat- 
ures. Light after light gradually twinkles fortli; here a 
taper from a balconied window; there a votive lamj) befoi-e 
(he image of a saint. Thus by degrees tlie city emerges 
from the pervading gloom, and S23arkles with scattered liglits 
like the starry firmament. Now break forth from court, and 
garden, and street, and lane the tinkling of innumerable 
guitars and the clicking of castanets, blending at this lofty 
height in a faint and general concert. '' Enjoy the mo- 
ment,^' is the creed of the gay and amorous Andalusian, 
and at no time does he practice it more zealously than m 
the balmy nights of summer, wooing his mistress with the 
dance, the love ditty, and the passionate serenade. 

I was seated one evening in the balcony, enjoying the 
light breeze that came rustling along the side of the hill 
among the tree-tops, when my humble histriograj^her, 
Mateo, who was at my elbow, pointed out a spacious house 
in an obscure street of the Albaycin, about wluch he re- 
lated, as nearly as I can recollect, the following anecdote. 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON. 

There was once upon a time a poor mason, or brick- 
layer, in Granada, who kept all the saints^ days and holy- 
days, and saint Monday into the bargain, and yet, with all 
his devotion, he grew poorer and poorer, and could scarcely 
earn bread for his numerous family. One night he was 
roused from his first sleep by a knocking at his door. He 
opened it and beheld before him a tall, meager, cadaverous- 
lookhig priest. " Hark ye, honest friend, ^^ said the stran- 
ger, *^ I have observed that you are a good Christian, and 
one to be trusted; will you undertake a job this very 
night?'^ 

'^ With all my heart, Senor Padre, on condition that I 
am paid accordingly." 

'' That you shall be; but you must suffer yourself to be 
blmdfolded/' 



THE ALHAMBRA. 50 

To this the mason made no objection; so, being hood- 
winked, he was led by the priest through various rough 
lanes and winding passages until they stopped before the 
portal of a house. The priest then applied a key, turned 
a creaking lock, and opened what sounded like a ponderous 
door. They entered, the door was closed and bolted, and 
the mason was conducted through an echoing corriddi' and 
spacious hall to an interior part of the building. Here 
the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he found him- 
self in a j)atio, or court, dimly lighted by a single lamp. 

In the center was a dry basin of an old Moorish fountaiii, 
under which the priest requested him to form a small 
vault, bricks and mortar beuig at hand for the pur2:)ose. 
He accordingly worked all night, but without finishing the 
job. Just before day-break the priest put a piece of gold 
into his hand, and having again blindfolded him, conducted 
him back to his dwelling. 

*^Are you willing,'^ said he, ^^ to retm-n and com2)lete 
your work?''' 

'^ Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am as well paid.'' 

" Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will call agahi." 

He did so, and the vault was completed. " Now," said 
the priest, ''you must help me to bring forth the bodies 
that are to be buried in this vault." 

The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words; 
he followed the priest with trembling stej^s into a retired 
chamber of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly 
spectacle of death, but was relieved, on perceiving three or 
four portly jars standing in one corner. They were evi- 
dently full of money, and it was with great labor that he 
and the priest carried them forth and consigned them to 
their tomb. The vault was then closed, the pavemeiit re- 
placed, and all traces of the work obliterated. 

The mason was again lioodAvinked and led forth by h 
route different from that by which he had come. After 
they had wandered for a long time through a perplexed 
maze of lanes and alleys, they halted. The priest then j^ut 
two pieces of gold into his hand. " Wait here," said he, 
" until you hear the cathedral bell toll for matins. If you 
presume to uncover your eyes before that time, evil will 
befall you." So saring, he departed. 

The mason Avaited faithfully, amusing himself by weigh- 
ing the gold pieces in his hand and clinking them against 



00 THE ALHxVMBKA. 

each other. The moment the cathedral bell rang its matin 
peal, he luicovered his eyes and fomid himself on the 
banks of the Xenil; from whence he made the best of his 
way home, and reveled with his family for a whole fort- 
night on the profits of his two nights' work, after Avhicli 
he was as poor as ever. 

He continued to work a little and pray a good deal, and 
keep holy-days and saints' days from year to year, while 
his family grew up as gaunt and ragged as a crew of 
gypsies. 

As he was seated one morning at the door of his hovel, 
he was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon who was noted 
for owning many houses and being a griping landlord. 

The man of money eyed him for a moment from be- 
neath a i^air of shagged eyebrows. 

" I am told, friend, that you are very 2)oor.'' 

*' There is no denying the fact, senor; it speaks for it- 
self.'' 

'* I presume, then, you will be glad of a job, and will 
work cheap." 

" As cheaj^, my master, as any mason in Granada." 

^" That's what I want. I have an old house fallen to de- 
cay that costs me more money than it is worth to keep it 
in repair, for nobody will live in it; so I must contrive to 
patch it up and keejo it together at as small expense as pos- 
sible." 

The mason was accordingly conducted to a huge deserted 
house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through several 
empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, 
where his eye was caught by an old Moorish fountain. 

He paused for a moment. " It seems," said he, '^ as if 
T had been in this place before; but it is like a dream. 
I'ray, who occupied this house formerly?" 

*' A pest upon him!" cried the landlord. "" It was an 
old miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. He 
was said to be immensely rich, and, having no relations, it 
was thought he would leave all his treasure to the church. 
He died suddenly, and the priests and fi-iars thronged to 
take possession of liis wealth, but notliing could they find 
but a few ducats in a leathern purse. The worst luck has 
fallen on me; for since his death the old fellow continues 
to occupy my house without paying rent, and there's no 
taking the law of a dead man. The people pretend to hear 



6 ... 

THE ALHAMBEA. 61 

at night the clinking of gold all night long in the chamber 
where the old priest slept, as if he were counting over his 
money, and sometimes a groaning and moaning about the 
court. Whether true or false, these stories have brought 
a bad name on my house, and not a tenant will remain in 

'^ Enough, ^^ said the mason, sturdily. " Let me live in 
your house rent free until some better tenant presents, and 
I will engage to put it in repair and quiet the troubled 
spirits that disturb it. I am a good Christian and a poor 
man, and am not to be daunted by the devil himself, even 
though he come in the shape of a big bag of money.-'' 

The offer of the honest mason was gladly accepted; he 
moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his 
engagements. By little and little he restored it to its 
former state. The clinking of gold Avas no longer heard at 
night in the chamber of the defunct priest, but began to be 
heard by day in the pocket of the living mason. In a 
word, he increased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of 
all his neighbors, and became one of the richest men in 
Granada. He gave large sums to the church, by way, no 
doubt, of satisfying his conscience, and never revealed the 
secret of his wealth until on his death-bed, to his son and 
heir. 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 

I FREQUENTLYY amusB myself toward the close of the 
day, when the heat has subsided, with taking long rambles 
about the neighboring hills and the deep, umbrageous 
valleys, accompanied by my histriographer. Squire Mateo, 
to whose j)assion for gossij^ing, I, on such occasions, give 
(he most unbounding license; and there is scarce a rock or 
ruin, or broken fountain, or lonely glen, about which he 
has not some marvelous story; or, above all, some golden 
legend; for never was jDOor devil so munificent in dispens- 
ing hidden treasures. 

A few evenings since we took a long stroll of the kind, 
in which Mateo was more than usually communicative. 
It was toward sunset that we sallied forth from the great 
Gate of Justice, and ascending an alley of trees, Mateo 
paused under a clump of fig and pomegranate-trees at the 
foot of a huge ruined tower, called the Tower of the Seven 



02 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Vaults (de los siete suelos). Here^ pointing to a low arch- 
way at the foimdation of the tower/ he informed me, in an 
imder-tone, was the lurking-place of a monstrous sprite or 
hobgoblin called the Belludo, which had infested the tower 
ever smce the time of the Moors, guarding, it is supjDOsed, 
the treasures of a Moorish king, Sometimes it issues forth 
in the dead of the night, and scours the avenues of the 
Alhambra and the streets of Granada in the shape of a 
headless horse, pursued by six dogs, with terrific yells and 
bowlings. 

" But have you ever met with it yourself, Mateo, in any 
of your rambles?^'' 

*' No, senor; but my grandfather, the tailor, knew 
several persons who had seen it; for it went about much 
more in his time than at present; sometimes in one shaj^e, 
sometimes in another. Everybody in Granada has heard 
of the Belludo, for the old women and nurses frighten the 
children with it when they cry. Some say it is the sj)irit 
of a cruel Moorish king, who killed his six sons, and buried 
them in these vaults, and that they hunt him at nights in 
revenge. ^^ 

Mateo went on to tell many particulars about this re- 
doubtable hobgoblin, which has, in fact, been time out of 
mind a favorite theme of nursery tale and popular tradition 
in Granada, and is mentioned in some of the antiquated 
guide-books. When he had finished, we passed on, skirt- 
ing the fruitful orchards of the Generalifi'e, among the 
trees of which two or three nightingales were pouring forth 
a rich straui of melody. Behind these orchards we j^assed 
a number of Moorish tanks, with a door cut into the rocky 
bosom of the hill, but closed up. These tanks. Mateo in- 
formed me were favorite bathing-places of himself and his 
comrades in boyhood, until frightened away by a story of a 
hideous Moor, who used to issue forth from the door i'n the 
rock to entrap unwary bathers. 

Leaving these haunted tanks behind us, we pursued our 
ramble up a solitary mule-path that wound among the 
hills, and soon found ourselves amid wild and melancholy 
momitains, destitute of trees, and here and there tinted 
with scanty verdure. Everything within sight was severe 
and sterile, and it was scarcely possible to realize the idea 
that but a short distance behind us was the Generalifi'e, 
with its blooming orchards and terraced gardens, and that 



THE ALHAMBxtA. 03 

we were in the vicinity of delicious Granada, that city of 
groves and fountains. But such is the nature of Spain — 
wild and stern the moment it escapes from cultivation, the 
desert and the garden are ever side by side. 

The narrow defile up which we were passing is called, 
according to Mateo, el Barranco de la Tmaja, or the Ravine 
of the Jar. 

" And why so, Mateo ?'* inquired I. 

" Because, senor, a jar full of Moorish gold was found 
here in old tirxxos.^^ The brain of poor Mateo is continual- 
ly running upon these golden legends. 

^' But what is the meaning of the cross I see yonder, 
upon a heap of stones, in that narrow part of the ravine ?^^ 

"Oh! that^s nothing — a muleteer was murdered there 
some years since. '^ 

" So, then, Mateo, you have robbers and murderers even 
at the gates of the Alhambra?'^ 

" Not at present, senor — that was formerly, when there 
used to be many loose fellows about the fortress; but 
they Ve all been weeded out. Not but that the gypsies, 
who live in caves in the hill-sides just out of the fortress, 
are, many of them, fit for anything; but we have had no 
murder about here for a long time past. The man who 
murdered the muleteer was hanged in the fortress.^' 

Our path continued up the barranco, with a bold, rugged 
height to our left, called the Silla del Moro, or Chair of the 
Moor; from a tradition that the unfortunate Boabdil fled 
thither during a popular insurrection, and remained all day 
seated on the rocky summit, looking mournfully down 
upon his factious city. 

We at length arrived on the highest part of the pro- 
montory above Granada, called the Mountain of the Sun. 
The evening was approaching; the setting sun just gilded 
the loftiest heights. Here and there a solitary shepherd 
might be descried driving his flock down the declivities to 
be folded for the night, or a muleteer and his lagging ani- 
mals threading some mountain path, to arrive at the city 
gates before nightfall. 

Presently the dee-p tones of the cathedral bell came swelling 
up the defiles, proclaiming the hour of Oracion, or prayer. 
The note was responded to from the belfry of every church, 
and from the sweet bells of the convents among the mount- 



64 THE ALHAltBRA. 

ains. The shepherd paused on the fold of the hill, the 
muleteer iu the midst of the road; each took off his hat, 
and remained motionless for a time, mm*muring his even- 
ing prayer. There is always something solemn and pleas- 
ing in this custom, by which, at a melodious signal, every 
human being throughout the land, recites, at the same 
moment, a tribute of thanks to God for the mercies of the 
day. It diffuses a transient sanctity over the land, and the 
sight of the sun sinking in all his glory adds not a little to 
the solemnity of the scene. In the present instance, the 
effect was heightened by the wild and lonely nature of the 
place. We were on the naked and broken summit of the 
haunted Momitain of the Sun, where ruined tanks and cis- 
terns, and the moldering foundations of extensive buildings 
spoke of former populousness, but where all was now silent 
and desolate. 

As we were wandering among these traces of old times, 
Mateo pointed out to me a circular pit, that seemed to 
jDcnetrate deep into the bosom of the mountain. It was 
evidently a deep well, dug by the indefatigable Moors, to 
obtain their favorite element in its greatest pmity. Mateo, 
however, had a different story, and much more to his 
humor. This was, according to tradition, an entrance to 
the subterranean caverns of the mountain, in which Boabdil 
and his court lay boimd in magic spell; and from whence 
they sallied forth at night, at allotted times, to revisit their 
ancient abodes. 

The deepening twilight, w^hich in this climate is of such 
short duration, admonished us to leave this haunted 
ground. As we descended the mountain defiles, there was 
no longer herdsman or muleteer to be seen, nor anything 
to be heard but our own footsteps and the lonely chirping 
of the cricket. The shadows of the valleys grew deeper 
and deeper, until all was dark around us. The lofty sum- 
mit of the Sierra Nevada alone retained a lingering gleam 
of daylight, its snoTv^ peaks glaring against the dark-blue 
firmament, and seeming close to us, from the extreme 
purity of the atmosphere. 

*'How near the Sierra looks this evenmg!^' said Mateo; 
" it seems as if you could touch it with yom- hand, and yet 
it is many long leagues oft'.'' While he was speaking a 
star appeared over the snowy summit of the mountain, the 
only one yet visible in the heavens, and so pure, so large. 



THE ALHAJyiBBA. 65 

SO bright and beautiful as to call forth ejaculations of de- 
light from honest Mateo. 

** Que lucero hermoso! — que claro y limpio es! — no pueda 
ser lucero mas brillante!^^ 

(What a beautiful star! liow clear and lucid! no star 
could be more brilliant!) 

I have often remarked this sensibility of the common 
people of Spain to the charms of natural objects. The 
luster of a star — the beauty or fragrance of a flower — the 
crystal purity of a fountain, will inspire them with a kind 
of poetical delight — and then what euphonious Avords their 
magnificent language affords, with which to give utterance 
to their transports! 

^' But what lights are those, Mateo, which I see twink- 
ling along the Sierra Nevada, just below the snowy region, 
and which might be taken for stars, only that they are 
ruddy and against the dark side of the mountain?^' 

*' Those, senor, are fires made by the men who gather 
snow and ice for the supply of Granada. They go up every 
afternoon with mules and asses, and take turns, some to rest 
and warm themselves by the fires, while others fill their 
paniers with ice. They then set ofi down the mountai]i, 
so as to reach the gates of Granada before sunrise. That 
Sierra Nevada, senor, is a lump of ice in the middle of 
Andalusia, to keep it all cool in summer. ^^ 

It was now completely dark; we were passing through 
the barranco where stood the cross of the murdered mule- 
teer, when I beheld a number of lights moving at a dis- 
tance and apparently advanchig up the ravine. On nearer 
approach they proved to be torches borne by a train of un- 
couth figures arrayed in black; it Avould have been a pro- 
cession dreary enough at any time, but was peculiarly so in 
this wild and solitary place. 

Mateo drew near, and told me m a low voice that it was 
a funeral train bearing a corpse to the burying-ground 
among the hills. 

As the procession passed by, the lugubrious light of the 
torches, falling on the rugged features and funereal weeds 
of the attendants, had the most fantastic effect, but was 
l^erfectly ghastly as it revfealed the countenance of the 
corj^se, which, according to Spanish custom, was borne 
micovered on an open bier. I remained for some time 
gazing after the dreary train as it wound up the dark defile 



6Q THE ALHAMBRA. 

of the mountain. It put me in mind of the old story of a 
procession of demons bearing the body of a sinner up the 
crater of Stromboli. 

'^ Ah;, senor/" cried Mateo, " I could tell you a story of 
a procession once seen among these mountains — but then 
you Avould laugh at me, and say it was one of the legacies 
of my grandfather, the tailor/^ 

" By no means, Mateo. There is nothing I relish more 
than a marvelous tale.'' 

** Well, senor, it is about one of those very men we have 
been talkmg of, who gather snow on the Sierra Nevada. 
You must know that a great many years since, in my 
grandfather's time, there was an old fellow, Tio Nicolo by 
name, who had filled the paniers of his mules with snow 
and ice, and was returning down the mountain. Being 
very drowsy, he mounted upon the mule, and, soon falluig 
asleep, went with his head noddiug and bobbmg about 
from side to side, while his sure-footed old mule stepped 
along the edge of precipices, and down steep and broken 
barrancos just as safe and steady as if it had been on plain 
ground. At length Tio Nicolo awoke, gazed about him, 
and rubbed his eyes — and in good truth he had reason 
— the moon shone almost as bright as day, and he saw the 
city below him, as plain as your hand, and sliming with its 
white buildings like a silver platter in the moonshine; but. 
Lord! senor, it was nothing like the city he left a few 
hours before. Instead of the cathedral with its great dome 
and turrets, and the churches with their spires, and the 
convents with their pinnacles all surmounted with the 
blessed cross, he saw nothing but Moorish mosques, and 
minarets, and cupolas, all topped off with glittering cres- 
cents, such as you see on the Barbary flags. Well, senor, 
as you may suppose, Tio Nicolo was mightily puzzled at 
all this, but while he was gazmg down upon the city, a 
great army came marching up the mountain, winding 
along the ravines, sometimes in the moonshine, sometimes 
in the shade. As it drew nigh, he saw that there Avere 
horse and foot, all in Moorish armor. Tio Nicolo tried to 
scramble out of their way, but his old mule stood stock 
still and refused to budge, trembling at the same time like 
a leaf — for dumb beasts, senor, are just as much frighteiied 
at such things as human beings. AVell, senor, the hob- 
goblin army came marching by; there were men that 



THE ALHAMBRA. 07 

seemed to blow trumpets, and others to beat drums and 
strike cymbals, yet never a sound did they make; they all 
moved on without the least noise, just as I have seen 
painted armies move across the stage in the theater of 
Granada, and all looked as pale as death. At last, in the 
rear of the army, between two black Moorish horsemen, 
rode the grand inquisitor of Granada, on a mule as white 
as snow. Tio Nicolo wondered to see him in such com- 
pany; for the mquisitor was famous for his hatred of 
Moors, and indeed of all kinds of infidels, Jews, and 
heretics, and used to hunt them out with fire and scourge 
— however, Tio Nicolo felt himself safe, now that there 
was a priest of such sanctity at hand. So, making the 
sign of the cross, he called out for his benediction, when — 
hombre ! he received a blow that sent him and his old mule 
over the edge of a steep bank, down which they rolled, 
head over heels, to the bottom. Tio Nicolo did not come 
to his senses until long after sunrise, when he found him- 
self at the bottom of a deep ravme, his mule grazing beside 
him, and his panic rs of snow completely melted. He 
crawled back to Granada sorely bruised and battered, and 
was glad to find the city lookmg as usual, with Christian 
churches and crosses. When he told the story of his 
night ^s adventure, every one laughed at him; some said he 
had dreamed it all, as he dozed on his mule, others thought 
it all a fabrication of his own. But what was strange, 
senor, and made people afterward think more seriously of 
the matter, was, that the grand mquisitor died within the 
year. I have often heard my grandfather, the tailor, say 
that there was more meant by that hobgoblin army bearing 
off the resemblance of the priest than folks dared to sur- 
mise. ^^ 

^' Then you would, insinuate, friend Mateo, that there is 
a kind of Moorish limbo, or purgatory, in the bowels of 
these mountams, to which the Padre Inquisitor was borne 
off?^^ 

'* God forbid, senor. I know nothing of the matter — I 
only relate what I heard from my grandfather.^^ 

By the time Mateo had finished the tale which I have 
more succinctly related, and which was interlarded with 
many comments, and spun out with minute details, we 
reached the gate of the Alhambra. 



68 THE ALHAMBRA. 



THE COURT OF LIONS. 

The peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace is its 
power of calling up vague reveries and picturings of the 
past^ and thus clothing naked realities with the illusions of 
the memory and the imagination. As I delight to walk in 
these " vain shadows/^ I am prone to seek those parts of 
the Alhambra which are most favorable to this phantas- 
magoria of the mind; and none are more so than the Court 
of Lions and its surrounding halls. Here the hand of time 
has fallen the lightest, and the traces of Moorish elegance 
and splendor exist in almost their original brilliancy. 
Earthquakes have shaken the foundations of this pile, and 
rent its rudest towers, yet see — not one of those slender 
columns has been displaced, not an arch of that light and 
fragile colonnade has given way, and all the fairy fretwork 
of these domes, ajDparently as unsubstantial as the crystal 
fabrics of a morning^ s frost, yet exist after the lapse of 
centuries, almost as fresh as if from the hand of the Mos- 
lem artist. 

I write in the midst of these mementoes of the past, in 
the fresh hour of early morning, m the fated Hall of the 
Abencerrages. The blood-stained fountain, the legendary 
monument of their massacre, is before me; the lofty jet 
almost casts its dew upon my paper. How difficult to 
reconcile the ancient tale of violence and blood with the 
gentle and peaceful scene around! Everything here ap- 
pears calculated to inspire kind and happy feelings, for 
everything is delicate and beautiful. The very light falls 
tenderly from above, through the lantern of a dome tinted 
and wrought as if by fairy hands. Through the ami3le 
and fretted arch of the portal I behold the Court of Lions, 
with brilliant sunshine gleaming along its colonnades and 
sparkling in its fountains. The lively swallow dives into 
the court, and then surging upward, darts away twittering 
over the roof; the busy bee toils humming among the 
flower-beds, and painted butterflies hover from plant to 
plant, and flutter up, and sport with one another in the 
sunny air. It needs but a slight exertion of the fancy to 
picture some pensive beauty of the harem loitering in 
these secluded hamits of Oriental luxury. 



THE ALHAMBRA. 69 

He, however, wlio would behold this scene under an 
aspect more m unison with its fortunes, let him come when 
the shadows of evening temper the brightness of the court, 
and throw a gloom into the surroundnig halls — then noth- 
ing can be more serenely melancholy, or more in harmony 
with the tale of departed grandeur. 

At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of Justice, 
whose deep, shadowy arcades extend across the upper end 
of the court. Here were performed, in presence of Ferdi- 
nand and Isabella, and their triumphant court, the pompous 
ceremonies of high mass, on taking possession of the 
Alhambra. The very cross is still to be seen upon the 
wall, where the altar was erected, and where officiated the 
grand cardinal of Spain, and others of the highest religious 
dignitaries of the land. 

I picture to myself the scene when this place was filled 
with the conquermg host, that mixture of mitred prelate, 
and shorn monk, and steel-clad knight, and silken courtier; 
when crosses, and croziers, and religious standards were 
mingled with proud armorial ensigns and the banners of 
the haughty chiefs of Spain, and flaunted in triumph 
through these Moslem halls. I picture to myself Colum- 
bus, the future discoverer of a world, taking his modest 
stand m a remote corner, the humble and neglected spec- 
tator of the pageant. I see in imagination the Catholic 
sovereigns prostrating themselves before the altar and 
pouring forth thanks for their victory, while the vaults 
resomid with sacred minstrelsy and the deep-toned Te 
Deum. 

The transient illusion is over — the pageant melts from 
the fancy — monarch, priest, and warrior return into obliv- 
ion, with the poor Moslems over whom they exulted. The 
hall of their triumph is waste and desolate. The bat flits 
about its twilight vaults, and the owl hoots from the 
neighboring Tower of Comares. The Court of Lions 
has also its share of supernatural legends. I have already 
mentioned the belief in the murmuring of voices and clank- 
ing of chains, made at night by the spirits of the murdered 
Abencerrages. Mateo Ximenes, a few evenings since, at 
one of the gatherings in Dame Antonia^s apartment, related 
a fact which happened within the knowledge of his grand- 
father, the legendary tailor. There was an invalid soldier, 
who had charge of the Alhambra, to show it to strangers. 



70 THE ALHAMBKA. 

As he was one evening, about twilight, passing through the 
Court of Lions, he heard foosteps in the Hall of the Aben- 
cerrages. Supposing some loungers to be lingering thei-o, 
he advanced to attend upon them, when, to his astonish- 
ment, he beheld four Moors richly dressed, with gilded 
cuirasses and cimeters, and poniards glittering witli 
precious stones. They were walking to and fro with 
solemn pace, but paused and beckoned to him. The old 
soldier, however, took to flight, and could never afterward 
be prevailed upon to enter the Alhambra. Thus it is that 
men sometimes turn their backs upon fortune; for it is the 
firm opinion of Mateo that the Moors intended to reveal 
the place where their treasures lay buried. A successor to 
the invalid soldier was more knowing; he came to the 
Alhambra poor, but at the end of a year went off to 
Malaga, bought horses, set up a carriage, and still lives 
there, one of the richest as well as oldest men of the place; 
all which, Mateo sagely surmises, was in consequence of his 
finding out the golden secret of these phantom Moors. 

On entering the Court of Lions, a few evenings since, 
I was startled at beholding a turbaned Moor quietly seated 
near the fountam. It seemed, for a moment, as if one of 
the stories of Mateo Ximenes were realized, and some 
ancient inhabitant of the Alhambra had broken the spell of 
centuries and become visible. It proved, however, to be a 
mere ordinary mortal; a native of Tetuan, in Barbary, who 
had a shop in the Zacatin of Granada, where he sold 
rhubarb, trinkets, and perfumes. As he spoke Spanish 
fluently, I was enabled to hold conversation with him, and 
found him shrewd and intelligent. He told me that he 
came up the hill occasionally in the summer, to pass a part 
of the day in the Alhambra, which reminded him of the 
old palaces in Barbary, which were built and adorned in 
similar style, though with less magnificence. 

As we walked about the palace he pointed out several of 
the Arabic inscriptions as possessing much poetic beauty. 

"Ah! senor,^^ said he, " when the Moors held Granada, 
they were a gayer people than they are nowadays. They 
thought only of love, of music, and of poetry. They made 
stanzas upon, every occasion, and set them all to music. 
He who could make the best verses, and she who had the 
most tuneful voice, might be sure of favor and preferment. 
In those days, if any one asked for bread, the reply was. 



THE ALHAMBRA. 71 

^ Make me a couplet;' and the poorest beggar, if he begged 
ill rhyme, would often be rewarded with a piece of gold/' 

"And is the popular feeling for poetry/' said I, "en- 
tirely lost among you?" 

"By no means, senor; the people of Barbary, even 
those of the lower classes, still make couplets, and good 
ones, too, as in the old time, but talent is not rewarded as 
it was then; the rich prefer the jingle of their gold to the 
sound of j)oetry or music." 

As he was talking, his eye caught one of the inscriptions 
that foretold perpetuity to the power and glory of the Mos- 
lem monarchs, the masters of the pile. He shook his head 
and shrugged his shoulders as he interpreted it. " Such 
might have been the case," said he; " the Moslems might 
still have been reigning in the Alhambra, had not Boabdil 
been a traitor, and given up his capitol to the Christians. 
The Spanish monarchs would never have been able to con- 
quer it by open force." 

I endeavored to vindicate the memory of the unlucky 
Boabdil from this aspersion, and to show that the dissen- 
sions which led to the downfall of the Moorish throne 
originated in the cruelty of his tiger-hearted father; but 
the Moor would admit of no palliation. 

" Abul Hassan," said he, " might have been cruel, but 
he was brave, vigilant, and patriotic. Had he been 
properly seconded, Granada would still have been ours; 
but his son Boabdil thwarted his plans, crippled his power, 
sowed treason in his palace, and dissension in his camp. 
May the curse of God light upon him for his treachery. " 
With these words the Moor left the Alhambra. 

The indignation of my turbaned companion agrees with 
an anecdote related by a friend, who, in the course of a 
tour in Barbary, had an interview with the pasha of 
Tetuan. The Moorish governor was particular in his 
inquiries about the soil, the climate, and resources of 
Spain, and especially concerning the favored regions of 
Andalusia, the delights of Granada, and the remains of its 
royal palace. The replies awakened all those fond recol- 
lections, so deeply cherished by the Moors, of the power 
and splendor of their ancient empire in Spain. Turning 
to his Moslem attendants, the pasha stroked his beard, and 
broke forth in passionate lamentations that such a scepter 
should have fallen from the sway of true believers. He 



72 THE ALHAMBBA. 

consoled himself, however, with the persuasion that the 
power and prosperity of the Spanish nation were on the 
decline; that a time would come when the Moors would 
reconquer their rightful domains; and that the day was 
perhaps not far distant when Mohammedan worshiji 
would again be offered up in the mosque of Cordova, and a 
Mohammedan prince sit on his throne in the Alhambra. 

Such is the general aspiration and belief among the 
Moors of Barbary, who consider Si^am, and especially 
Andalusia, their rightful heritage, of which they have 
been despoiled by treacheiy and violence. These ideas are 
fostered and perpetuated by the descendants of the exiled 
Moors of Granada, scattered among the cities of Barbary. 
Several of these reside in Tetuan, preserving their ancient 
names, such as Paez, and Medina, and refraining from 
intermarriage with any families who can not claim the 
same high origin. Their vaunted lineage is regarded with 
a degree of popular deference rarely shown in Mohamme- 
dan communities to any hereditary distinction except in the 
royal line. 

These families, it is said, continue to sigh after the ter- 
restrial paradise of their ancestors, and to put up prayers 
in their mosques on Fridays, imploring Allah to hasten the 
time when Granada shall be restored to the faithful, an 
event to which they look forward as fondly and confidently 
as did the Christian crusaders to the recovery of the Holy 
Sepulcher. Nay, it is added, that some of them retain the 
ancient maps and deeds of the estates and gardens of their 
ancestors at Granada, and even the keys of the houses, 
holding them as evidences of their hereditary claims, to be 
produced at the anticipated day of restoration. 



BOABDIL EL CHICO. 

My conversation with the Moor in the Ooui't of Lions set 
me to musing on the singular fate of Boabdil. Never was 
surname more a^^plicable than that bestowed upon him by 
his subjects, of " El Zogoybi,'' or " The Unlucky. ^^ His 
misfortunes began almost in his cradle. In his tender 
youth he was imprisoned and menaced with death by an 
inhuman father, and only escaped through a mother^s 
stratagem; in after years his life was imbittered and re- 



THE ALHAMBEA. 73 

peatedly endangered by the hostilities of a usurping uncle; 
his reign was distracted by external invasions and internal 
feuds; he was alternately the foe, the prisoner, the friend, 
and always the dupe of Ferdmand, until conquered and 
dethroned by the mingled craft and force of that perfidious 
monarch. An exile from his native land, he took refuge 
with one of the princes of Africa, and fell obscurely m 
battle fighting in the cause of a stranger. His misfortunes 
ceased not with his death. If Boabdil cherished a desire to 
leave an honorable name on the historic page, how cruelly 
has he been defrauded of his hopes! Who is there that has 
turned the least attention to the romantic history of the 
Moorish domination in Spain, without kmdlmg with indig- 
nation at the alleged atrocities of Boabdil? Who has not 
been touched with the woes of his lovely and gentle queen, 
subiected by him to a trial of life and death, on a false 
charge of infidelity? Who has not been shocked by the 
alleged murder of his sister and her two children, m a 
transport of passion? Wlio has not felt his blood boil at 
the inhuman massacre of the gallant Abencerrages, thirty- 
six of whom, it is affirmed, he caused to be beheaded m the 
Court of Lions? All these charges have been reiterated 
in various forms; they have passed mto ballads, dramas, 
and romances, until they have taken too thorough posses- 
sion of the public mind to be eradicated. 

There is not a foreigner of education that visits the 
Alhambra, but asks for the fountain where the Abencer- 
rages were beheaded, and gazes with horror at the grated 
gallery where the queen is said to have been confined; not 
a peasant of the Vega or the Sierra, but sings the story m 
rude couplets to the accompaniment of his gmtar, while 
his hearers learn to execrate the very name of Boabdil. 

Never, however, was name more foully and unjustly 
slandered. I have examined all the authentic chronicles 
and letters written by Spanish authors contemporary with 
Boabdil; some of whom were in the confidence of the 
Catholic sovereigns, and actually present in the camp 
throughout the war; I have examined all the Arabian 
authorities I could get access to through the medium of 
translation, and can find nothing to justify these dark and 
hateful accusations. 

The whole of these tales may be traced to a work com- 
monly called " The Civil Wars of Granada/' containing a 



74 THE ALHAMBilA. 

pretended history of the feuds of the Zegries and Abencer- 
rages during the last struggle of the Moorish empire. This 
work appeared originally in Spanish, and professed to be 
translated from the Arabic by one Gines Perez de Hita, an 
inhabitant of Murcia. It has since passed into various 
languages, and Florian has taken from it much of the 
fable of his Gonsalvo of Cordova. It has, in a great 
measure, usurped the authority of real history, and is cur- 
rently believed by the people, and especially the peasantry 
of Granada. The whole of it, however, is a mass of fic- 
tion, mingled with a few disfigured truths, which give it 
an air of veracity. It bears uiternal evidence of its falsity, 
the manners and customs of the Moors being extravagantly 
misrepresented in it, and scenes depicted totally incom- 
patible with their habits and their faith, and which never 
could have been recorded by a Mohammedan writer. 

I confess there seems to me something almost criminal 
in the willful perversions of this work. Great latitude is 
undoubtedly to be allowed to romantic fiction, but there 
are limits which it must not pass, and the names of the 
distinguished dead, which belong to history, are no more 
to be calumniated than those of the illustrious living. 
One would ha\e thought, too, that the unfortunate Boab- 
dil had suffered enough for his justifiable hostility to Span- 
iards, by being stripped of his kingdom, without having 
his name thus wantonly traduced and rendered a by- word 
and a theme of infamy in his native land, and in the very 
mansion of his fathers! 

It is not intended hereby to afiirm that the transactions 
imputed to Boabdil are totally without historic foundation ; 
but as far as they can be traced they appear to have been 
the arts of his father, Abul Hassan, who is represented, by 
both Christian and Arabian chroniclers, as being of a cruel 
and ferocious nature. It was he wdio put to death the 
cavaliers of the illustrious line of the Abencerrages, upon 
suspicion of their being engaged in a conspiracy to dis- 
possess him of his throne. 

The story of the accusation of the queen of Boabdil, and 
of her confinement in one of the towers, may also be traced 
to an incident m the life of his tiger-hearted father. Abul 
Hassan, in his advanced age, married a beautiful Christian 
captive of noble descent, who took the Moorish appellation 
of Zorayda, by whom he had two sons. She was of an am- 



THE ALHAMBRA. 75 

bitious spirit, and anxious that her children should succeed 
to the crown. For this purpose she worked upon the sus- 
picious temper of the king, inflaming him with jealousies 
of his children by his other wives and concubines, whom 
she accused of plotting against his throne and life. Some 
of them were slain by the ferocious father. Ayxa la Horra, 
the virtuous mother of Boabdil, who had once been his 
cherished favorite, became likewise the object of his suspi- 
cion. He confined her and her son in the Tower of Com- 
ares, and would have sacrificed Boabdil to his fury, but 
that his tender mother lowered him from the tower, in the 
night, by means of the scarfs of herself and her attendants, 
and thus enabled him to escape to Guadix. 

Such is the only shadow of a fomidation that I can find 
for the story of the accused and cajDtive queen; and in this 
it appears that Boabdil was the persecuted instead of the 
persecutor. 

Throughout the whole of his brief, turbulent, and disas- 
trous reign, Boabdil gives evidence of a mild and amiable 
character. He, in the first instance, won the hearts of the 
people by his affable and gracious manners; he was always 
peaceable, and never inflicted any severity of punishment 
upon those who occasionally rebelled against him. He was 
personally brave, but he wanted moral courage, and in 
times of difficulty and perplexity was wavering and irreso- 
lute. This feebleness of spirit hastened his downfall, while 
it deprived him of that heroic grace which would hs.ve 
given a grandeur and dignity to his fate, and rendered him 
worthy of closing the splendid drama of the Moslem domi- 
nation in Spain. 



MEMENTOES OF BOABDIL. 

While my mind was still warm with the subject of the 
unfortunate Boabdil, I set forth to trace the mementoes 
connected with his story, which yet exist in this scene of 
his sovereignty and his misfortunes. In the i3icture-gallery 
of the palace of the Generalilfe hangs his portrait. The 
face is mild, handsome, and somewhat melanchoty, with a 
fair complexion and yellow hair; if it be a true reiDresenta- 
tion of the man, he may have been wavering and uncertain, 
but there is nothing of cruelty or unkindness in his aspect. 

I next visited the dungeon wherein he was confined in 



76 THE ALHAMBKA. 

his youtliful days, when his cruel father meditated his de- 
struction. It is a vaulted room in the Tower of Oomares, 
under the Hall of Embassadors. A similar room, sepa- 
rated by a narrow passage, was the prison of his mother, 
the virtuous Ayxa la Horra. The walls are of prodigious 
thickness, and the small windows secured by iron bars. 
A narrow stone gallery, with a low parapet, extends round 
three sides of the tower, just below the windows, but at a 
considerable height from the ground. From this gallery, 
it is presumed, the queen lowered her son with the scarfs 
of herself and her female attendants, duruig the darkness 
of night, to the hill-side, at the foot of which waited a 
domestic with a fleet steed to bear the prince to the mount- 
ains. 

As I paced this gallery, my imagination pictured the 
anxious queen leaning over the parapet, and listening, with 
the throbbings of a mother's heart, to the last echo of the 
horse's hoofs, as her son scoured along the narrow valley 
of the Darro. 

My next search was for the gate by which Boabdil de- 
parted from the Alhambra, when about to surrender his 
capital. With the melancholy caprice of a broken spirit, he 
requested of the Catholic monarchs that no one afterward 
might be permitted to pass through this gate. His 
prayer, according to ancient chronicles, was comi3lied with, 
through the sympathy of Isabella, and the gate walled up. 
For some time 1 inquired in vain for such a portal; at 
length my humble attendant, Mateo, learned among the 
old residents of the fortress that a ruinous gate-way still 
existed by which, according to tradition, the Moorish king 
had left the fortress, but which had never been opened 
within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. 

He conducted me to the spot. The gate-way is in the 
center of what was once an immense tower, called La 
Torre de los Siete Suelos, or the Tower of the Seven Moors. 

It is a place famous in the superstitious stories of the 
neighborhood, for being the scene of strange apparitions 
and Moorish enchantments. 

This once redoubtable toAver is now a mere wreck, hav- 
ing been blown up witli gunpowder by the French when 
they abandoned the fortress. Great masses of the wall lie 
scattered about, buried in the luxuriant herbage, or over- 
shadowed by vines and fig-trees. The arch of the gate-way, 



'THE ALHAMBEA. t t 

though rent by the shock, still remains; but the last wish 
of poor Boabdil has been again, though unirrtentionally, 
fulfilled, for the joortal has been closed up by loose stones 
gathered from the ruins, and remains impassable. 

Following ujo the route of the Moslem monarch as it re- 
mains on record, I crossed on horseback the hill of Les 
Martyrs, keeping along the garden of the convent of the 
same name, and thence down a rugged ravine beset by 
thickets of aloes and Indian figs and lined by caves and 
hovels swarming with gypsies. It was the road taken by 
Boabdil to avoid passing through the city. The descent 
was so steep and broken that 1 was obliged to dismount 
and lead my horse. 

Emerging from the ravine, and passing by the Puerta do 
los Molinos (the Gate of the Mills), I issued forth upon the 
public i^romenade, called the Prado, and pursuing the 
course of the Xenil, arrived at a small Moorish mosque, 
now converted into the chapel or hermitage of San Sebas- 
tian. A tablet on the wall relates that on this spot Boabdil 
surrendered the keys of Granada to the Castilian sover- 
eigns. 

From thence I rode slowly across the Vega to a village 
where the family and household of the rnVhapjoy king had 
awaited him; for he had sent them forward on the preced- 
ing night from the Alhambra, that his mother and wife 
might not participate in his personal humiliation, or be 
exposed to the gaze of the conquerors. 

Following on in the route of the melancholy band of 
royal exiles, I arrived at the foot of a chain of barren and 
dreary heights, forming the skirt of the Alpuxarra mount- 
ains. From the summit of one of these the unfortunate 
Boabdil took his last look at Granada. It bears a name 
expressive of his sorrows — La Ouesta de las Lagrimas (the 
Hill of Tears). Beyond it a sandy road winds across a 
rugged, cheerless waste, doubly dismal to the unhappy 
monarch, as it led to exile; behind, in the distance, lies 
the '' enameled Vega,^' with the Xenil shining among its 
bowers, and Granada beyond. 

I spurred my horse to the summit of a rock, where 
Boabdil uttered his last sorrow^ful exclajaation, as he 
turned his eyes from taking their farewell gaze. It is still 
denominated el ultimo suspiro del Moro (the last sigh of 
the Moor). Who can wonder at his anguish at being ex- 



^8 THE ALHAMBRA. 

pelled from siich a kingdom and such an abode? With the 
Alhambra he seemed to be yielding up all the honors of his 
line and all the glories and delights of life. 

It was here, too, that his affliction was imbittered by. the 
reproach of his mother, Ayxa, who had so often assisted 
him in times of peril, and had vainly sought to instill into 
him her own resolute spirit. *' You do well,^^ said she, 
'^ to weej) as a woman oyer what you could not defend as a 
man!^^ A speech that savors more of the pride of the 
j)rincess than the tenderness of the mother. 

When this anecdote was related to Charles V. by Bishop 
Guevara, the emperor joined in the expression of scorn at 
the weakness of the wavering Boabdil. " Had I been he, 
or he been 1/' said the haughty potentate, '' I would 
rather have made this Alhambra my sepulcher than have 
lived without a kingdom in the Alpuxarra.^^ 

How easy it is for those in power and prosperity to 
preach heroism to the vanquished! How little can they 
understand that life itself may rise in value with the un- 
fortunate, when naught but life remains. 



THE TOWEK OF LAS INFANTAS. 

In an evening^ s stroll up a narrow glen, overshadowed 
by fig-trees, pomegranates, and myrtles, that divides the 
land of the fortress from those of the Generalise, I was 
struck with the romantic appearance of a Moorish tower in 
the outer wall of the Alhambra, that rose high above the 
tree-tops, and caught the ruddy rays of the setting sun. A 
solitary window, at a great height, commanded a view of 
the glen, and as I was regarding it a young female looked 
out, with her head adorned with flowers. She was evi- 
dently superior to the usual class of people that inhabit the 
old towers of the fortress; and this sudden and picturesque 
glimpse of her reminded me of the descriptions of captive 
beauties in fairy tales. The fanciful associations of my 
mind were increased on being informed by my attendant, 
Mateo, that this was the Tower of the Princesses (la Torre 
de las Infantas), so called from having been, according to 
tradition, the residence of the daughters of the Moorish 
kings. I have since visited the tower. It is not generally 
shown to strangers^ though well worthy attention, for the 



THE ALHAMBEA. 7'.) 

interior is equal for beauty of architecture and delicacy of 
ornament to any part of the palace. The elegance of its 
central hall, with its marble fountain, its lofty arches, and 
richly fretted dome; the arabesques and stucco-work of the 
small but well-pro j)ortioned chambers, though injured by 
time and neglect, all accord with the story of its being 
anciently the abode of royal beauty. 

The little old fairy queen who lives under the staircase of 
the Alhambra, and frequents the evening tertulias of Dame 
Antonia, tells some fanciful traditions about three Moorish 
princesses who were once shut uj:) in this tower by their 
father, a tyrant king of Granada, and were only permitted 
to ride out at night about the hills, when no one was per- 
mitted to come in tlieir way, mider pain of death. They 
still, according to her account, may be seen occasionally 
when the moon is in the full, riding in lonely places along 
the mountain-side, on palfreys richly caparisoned, and 
sparkling with jewels, but they vanish on being spoken to. 

But before I relate anything further respecting these 
princesses, the reader may be anxious to know something 
about the fair inhabitant of the tower, with her head 
dressed with flowers, who looked out from the lofty win- 
dow. She proved to be the newly married spouse of the 
worthy adjutant of invalids; who, though well stricken in 
years, had had the courage to take to his bosom a young 
and buxom Andalusian damsel. May the good old cavalier 
be happy in his choice, and find the Tower of the Princesses 
a more secure residence for female beauty than it seems to 
have 23roved in the time of the Moslems, if we may believe 
the following legend. 



THE HOUSE OF THE WEATHER-COCK. 

Ok the brow of the lofty hill of the Albaycin, the highest 
part of the city of Granada, stand the remains of what was 
once a royal palace, founded shortly after the conquest of 
Spain by the Arabs. It is now converted into a manufac- 
tory, and has fallen into such obscurity that it cost me 
much trouble to find it, notwithstanding that I had the 
;is: istance of the sagacious and all-knowing Mateo Ximenes. 
This edifice still bears the name by which it lias been 
known for centuries, namel}^, la Casa del Gallo de Viento,* 
that is^ the House of the Weather-cock, 



80 THE ALHAMBEA. 

It was SO called from a bronze figm-e of a warrior on 
horseback, armed with shield and spear, erected on one of 
its turrets, and turning with every wind, bearing an Arabic 
motto, which, translated into Spanish, was as follows: 

Did el Sabio Aben Habuz 
Que asi se defiende el Anduluz. 

In this way, says Aben Habuz, the wise, 
The Andalusian his foe defies. 

This Aben Habuz was a captain who served in the in- 
vading army of Taric, and was left as alcayde of Granada. 
He is supposed to have intended this war-like effigy as a 
perpetual memorial to the Moorish mhabitants, that, sur- 
rounded as they were by foes, and subject to sudden in- 
vasion, their safety depended upon being always ready for 
the field. 

Other traditions, however, give a different account of 
this Aben Habuz and his palace, and affirm that his bronze 
horseman was originally a talisman of great virtue, though 
in after ages it lost its magic properties and degenerated 
into a weather-cock. The following are the traditions 
alluded to. 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 

Ii^" old times, many hundred years ago, there was a 
Moorish king named Aben Habuz, who reigned over the 
kingdom of Granada. He was a retired conqueror, that is 
to say, one w^ho, having in his more youthful days led a life 
of constant foray and de^Dredation, now that he was grown 
old and superannuated, *^ languished for repose, ^^ and 
desired nothing more than to live at peace with all the 
world, to husband his laurels, and to enjoy in quiet the 
possessions he had wrested from his neighbors. 

It so happened, however, that this most reasonable and 
pacific old monarch had young rivals to deal with — princes 
full of his early passion for fame and fighting, and who had 
some scores to settle which he had run up with their 
fathers; he had also some turbulent and discontented dis- 
tricts of his own territories among the Alpuxarra mount- 
ains, which, during the days of his vigor, he had treated 
with a high hand, and which, now that he languished for 
repose, were prone to rise in rebellion and to threaten to 



THE ALHAMBRA. 81 

marcli to Granada and drive him from nis throne. To 
make the matter worse, as Granada is surromided by wild 
and craggy mountains, which hide the approach of an 
enemy, the unfortmiate Aben Habuz was kept in a con- 
stant state of vigilance and alarm, not knowing in what 
quarter hostilities might break out. 

It was in vain that he built watch-towers on the momit- 
ains and stationed guards at every pass, with orders to 
make fires by night, and smoke by day, on the approach of 
an enemy. His alert foes would baffle every precaution, 
and come breaking out of some unthought-of defile — 
ravage his lands beneath his very nose, and then make off 
with prisoners and booty to the mountains. Was ever 
peaceable and retired conqueror in a more uncomfortable 
predicament? 

While the pacific Aben Habuz was harassed by these 
perplexities and molestations, an ancient Arabian physician 
arrived at his court. His gray beard descended to his 
girdle, and he had every mark of extreme age, yet he had 
traveled almost the whole way from Egypt on foot, with no 
other akl than a staff marked with hieroglyphics. His 
fame had preceded him. His name was Ibrahim Ebn Abu 
Ayub. He was said to have lived ever since the days of 
Mahommed, and to be the son of Abu Ayub, the last of 
the companions of the prophet. He had, when a child, 
followed the conquering army of Amru into Egypt, where 
he had remained many years studyhig the dark sciences, 
and particularly magic, among the Egyptian priests. It 
was, moreover, said that he had found out the secret of 
prolonging life, by means of which he had arrived to the 
great age of upward of two centuries; though, as he did 
not discover the secret until well stricken in years, he could 
only perpetuate his gray hairs and wrinkles. 

This wonderful old man was very honorably entertained 
by the king, who, like most superannuated monarchs, 
began to take physicians into great favor. He would have 
assigned him an apartment in his palace, but the astrologer 
preferred a cave in the side of the hill, which rises above 
the city of Granada, being the same on which the Alham- 
bra has since been built. He caused the cave to be en- 
larged so as to form a spacious and lofty hall with a 
circular hole at the top, through which, as through a well, 
he could see the heavens and behold the stars even at mid- 



82 THE ALHAMBRA. 

day. The walls of this hall were covered with Egyptian 
hieroglyphics^ with cabalistic symbols^ and with the figures 
of the stars in their signs. This hall he furnished with 
many implements, fabricated under his direction by cun- 
ning artificers of Granada, but the occult properties of 
which were only known to himself. In a little while the 
sage Ibrahim became the bosom comiselor of the king, to 
Avhom he applied for advice in every emergency. Aben 
Habuz was once inveighing against the injustice of his 
neighbors, and bewailing the restless vigilance he had to 
observe to guard himself against their invasions; when he 
had finished, the astrologer remained silent for a moment, 
and then, replied, ^'-Know, oh, king, that when I was in 
Egypt I beheld a great marvel devised by a jjagan jDriestess 
of old. On a mountain above the city of Borsa, and over- 
looking the great valley of the Nile, was a figure of a ram, 
and above it a figure of a cock, both of molten brass and 
turning upon a pivot. Whenever the country was threat- 
ened with invasion, the ram would turn in the direction of 
the enemy, and the cock would crow; uj^on this the inhabit- 
ants of the city knew of the danger, and of the quarter 
from which it was approaching, and could take timely 
notice to guard against it.^' 

*^ God is great !'^ exclaimed the pacific Aben Habuz; 
" what a treasure would be such a ram to keej^ an eye upon 
these mountains around me, and then such a cock to crow 
in time of danger! Allah Achbarl how securely I might 
sleep in my palace with such sentinels on the top!'^ 

^' Listen, oh, king,^^ continued the astrologer, gravely. 
"When the victorious Amru (God's peace be ujDon him!) 
conquered the city of Borsa, this talisman was destroyed; 
but I was present, and examined it, and studied its secret 
and mystery, and can make one of like, and even of greater 
virtues. '^ 

"Oh, wise son of Abu Ayub,'' cried Aben Habuz, 
" better were such a talisman than all the watch-towers on 
the hills and sentinels upon the borders. Give me such a 
safeguard, and the riches of my treasury are at thy com- 
mand. '^ 

The astrologer immediately set to work to gratify the 
wishes of the monarch. Shutting himself up in his astro- 
logical hall, and exerting the necromantic arts he had 
learned in Egypt^ he summoned to his assistance the spirits 



THE ALHAMBRA. 83 

and demons of the Nile. By his command they transport- 
ed to liis presence a mummy from a sepulchral chamber in 
the center of one of the Pyramids. It was the mummy of 
the priest who had aided by magic art in rearing that 
stupendous pile. 

The astrologer opened the outer cases of the mummy, 
and unfolded its many wrappers. On the breast of the 
corpse was a book written in Chaldaic characters. He 
seized it with trembling hand, then returning the mummy 
to its case, ordered the demons to transport it again to its 
dark and silent sepidcher in the Pyramid, there to await 
the final day of resurrection and judgment. 

This book, say the traditioiis, was the book of knowledge 
given by God to Adam after his fall. It had been handed 
down from generation to generation, to King Solomon the 
Wise, and by the aid of the wonderful secrets in magic and 
art revealed in it, he had built the Temple of Jerusalem. 
How it had come into the possession of the builder of the 
Pyramids, He only knows who knows all thiugs. 

Instructed by this mystic vohmie, and aided by the genii 
which it subjected to its command, the astrologer soon 
erected a great tower upon the top of the palace of Aben 
Habuz, which stood on the brow of the hill of the Albaycin. 
The tower was built of stones brought from Egypt, and 
taken, it is said, from one of the Pyramids. In the ujDper 
part of the tower was a circular hall, with windows looking 
toward every point of the compass, and before each window 
was a table, on which was arranged, as on a chess-board, a 
mimic army of horse and foot, with the effigy of the poten- 
tate that ruled in that direction, all carved of wood. To 
each of these tables there was a small lance, no bigger than 
a bodkin, on which were engraved certain mysterious 
Chaldaic characters. This hall was kept constantly closed 
by a gate of brass with a great lock of steel, the key of 
which was in possession of the king. 

On the top of the tower Avas a bronze figure of a Moorish 
horseman, fixed on a pivot, with a shield on one arm, and 
his lance elevated perpendicularly. The face of tliis horse- 
man was toward the city, as if keeping guard over it; but 
if any foe were at hand, the figure would turn in that 
direction and would level the lance as if for action. 

When this talisman was finished, Aben Habuz was all 
impatient to try its virtues, and longed as ardently for an 



84 THE ALHAMBRA. 

invasion as he had ever sighed after repose. His desire was 
soon gratified. Tidings were brought early one morning, 
by the sentinel aj^pointed to watch the tower, that the face 
of the brazen horseman was turned toward the mountains 
of Elvira, and that his lance pointed directly against the 
pass of Lope. 

*' Let the drums and trimipets sound to arms, and all 
Granada be pat on the alert,'' said Aben Habuz. 

" Oh, king,'' said the astrologer, " let not youi' city be 
disquieted, nor your warriors called to arms; we need no 
aid of force to deliver you from your enemies. Dismiss 
your attendants and let us proceed alone to the secret hall 
of the tower." 

The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the staircase of the 
tower, leaning on the arm of the still more ancient Ibrahim 
Ebn Abu Ayub. They unlocked the brazen door and 
entered. The window that looked toward the pass of Lope 
was open. " Li this direction," said the astrologer, " lies 
the danger — approach, oh, king, and behold the mystery 
of the table." 

King Aben Habuz approached the seeming chess-board, 
on which were arranged the small wooden effigies; when, 
lo! they were all in motion. The horses pranced and 
curveted, the warriors brandished their weapons, and there 
was a faint sound of drums and trumjDcts, and a clang of 
arms and neighing of steeds, but all no louder, nor more 
distinct, than the hum of the bee or summer-fly in the 
drowsy ear of him who lies at noontide in the shade. 

'' Behold, oh, king," said the astrologer, " a proof that 
thy enemies are even now in the field. They must be ad- 
vancing through yonder mountains by the pass of Lope. 
Would you produce a panic and confusion among them, 
and cause them to abandon their enterprise and retreat 
without loss of life, strike these efiigies with the butt-end 
of tills magic lance; but would you cause bloody feud and 
carnage among them^ stiike with the point." 

A livid streak passed across the countenance of the 
pacific Aben Habuz; he seized the mimic lance with trem- 
bling eagerness, and tottered toward the table; his gray 
beard wagged with chuckling exultation. " Son of Abu 
Ayub," exclaimed he, "I think we will have a little 
blood!" 

So saying, he thrust the magic lance mto some of the 



THE ALHAMBEA. 85 

pygmy effigies, and belabored others with the butt-end; 
upon which the former fell as dead, upon the board, and 
the rest, turning upon one another, began, pell-mell, a 
chance-medley fight. ,-,,.-,11 

It was with difficulty the astrologer could stay the hand 
of the most pacific of monarchs, and prevent him from 
absolutely exterminating his foes. At length he prevailed 
upon him to leave the tower, and to send out scouts to the 
mountains by the pass of Lope. _ . 

They returned with the intelligence that a Christian 
army had advanced through the heart of the Sierra, dmost 
within sight of Granada, when a dissension having broken 
out among them, they had turned their weapons against 
one another, and after much slaughter had retreated over 
the border. 

Aben Habuz was transported with ]oy on thus proving 
the efficacy of the talisman. '' x\t length,'' said he, ' I 
shall lead a life of tranquillity, and have all my enemies m 
my power. Oh, wise son of Abu Ayub, what can I bestow 
on thee m reward for such a blessing?'' 

'' The wants of an old man and a philosopher, oh, king, 
are few and simple— grant me but the means of fitting up 
my cave as a suitable hermitage, and I am content." 

''How noble is the moderation of the truly wise!" ex- 
claimed Aben Habuz, secretly pleased at the cheapness of 
the recompense. He summoned his treasurer, and bid him 
dispense whatever sums might be required by Ibrahim to 
complete and furnish his hermitage. 

The astrologer now gave orders to have various chambers 
hewn out of the solid rock, so as to form ranges of apart- 
ments connected with his astrological hall. These he 
caused to be furnished with luxurious ottomans and divans, 
and the walls to be hung with the richest silks of Damas- 
cus. " I am an old man," said he, '' and can no longer 
rest my bones on stone couches; and these damp walls re- 
quire covering." 

He also had baths constructed and provided with all 
khids of perfumery and aromatic oils; " for a bath," said 
he, " is necessary to counteract the rigidity of age, and to 
restore freshness' and suppleness to the frame withered by 
study." , . n 

He caused the apartments to be hung with innumerable 
silver and crystal lamps, which he filled with a fragrant oil 



8(3 THE ALHAMBRA. 

pre2)ared according to a recipe discovered by liim in the 
tombs of Egypt. This oil was perpetual in its nature, and 
diffused a soft radiance like the tempered light of day. 
" The light of the sun/'' said he, " is too garish and vio- 
lent for the eyes of an old man; and the light of the lamp 
is more congenial to the studies of a philosopher. •'' 

The treasurer of King Aben Habuz groaned at the sums 
daily demanded to fit up this hermitage, and he carried his 
complaints to the king. The royal word, however, was 
given — Aben Habuz shrugged his shoulders. " We must 
have joatience,^' said he; " this old man has taken his idea 
of a philosophic retreat from the interior of the Pyramids 
and the vast ruins of Egypt; but all things have an end, 
and so will the furnishing of his cavern. ^^ 

The king was in the right; the hermitage was at length 
complete, and formed a sumptuous subterranean palace. 
^' I am now content, ^^ said Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub, to the 
treasurer; '' I will shut myself up in my cell and devote 
my time to study. I desire nothing more — nothing — ex- 
cept a trifling solace to amuse me at the intervals of mental 
labor. ^' 

" Oh, wise Ibrahim, ask what thou wilt; I am bound to 
furnish all that is necessary for thy solitude. '^ 

" I would fain have, then, a few dancing women, ^^ said 
the philosopher. 

" Dancing women !^^ echoed the treasm-er, with surprise. 

'^ Dancing women, ^^ replied the sage, gravely; " a few 
will suffice, for I am an old man and a ^philosopher, of 
simple habits and easily satisfied. Let them, however, be 
young and fair to look upon — for the sight of youth and 
beauty is refreshing to old age.^^ 

While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Ayub passed his time 
thus sagely in his hermitage, the pacific Aben Habuz car- 
ried on furious camjDaigns in effigy in his tower. It was a 
glorious thing for an old man like himself, of quiet habits, 
to have war made easy, and to be enabled to amuse himself 
in his chamber by brushing away whole armies like so many 
swarms of flies. For a time he rioted in the indulgence of 
his humors, and even taunted and insulted his neighbors to 
induce them to make incursions; but by degrees they grew 
wary from repeated disasters, until no one ventured to in- 
vade his territories. For many months the bronze horse- 
man remained on the peace establishment with his lance 



THE ALHAMBRA. 87 

elevated in the air, and the worthy old monarch began to 
repine at the ^vant of his accustomed sporty and to grow 
peevish at his monotonous tranquillity. 

At length, one day, the talismanic horseman veered sud- 
denly round, and, lowering his lance, made a dead point 
toward the mountains of Guadix. Aben Habuz hastened 
to his tower, but the magic table in that direction remained 
fjiiiet — not a single warrior was in motion. PerjDlexed at 
the circumstance, he sent forth a troop of horse to scour 
the mountains and reconnoiter. They returned after three 
days^ absence. Rodovan, the captain of the troop, ad- 
dressed the kmg: ^' We have searched every mountain 
pass/^ said he, " but not a helm or spear was stirring. 
All that we have found in the course of our foray was a 
Chrsitian damsel of surpassing beauty, sleeping at noon- 
tide beside a fountain, whom we have brought away cap- 
tive.'' 

*'A damsel of surpassing beauty!'' exclaimed Aben 
Habuz, his eyes gleaming with animation; "let her be 
conducted into my presence." 

''Pardon me, oh, king!" replied Rodovan, "but our 
warfare at present is scanty, and yields but little harvest. 
I had hoped this chance gleaning would have been allowed 
for my services." 

"Chance gleaning!" cried Aben Habuz. "What! a 
damsel of surpassing beauty! By the head of my father! 
it is the choice fruits of warfare, only to be garnered up 
into the royal keeping. Let the damsel be brought hither 
instantly." 

The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted into his 
presence. She was arrayed in the Gothic style, with all 
the luxury of oriiament that had prevailed among the 
Gothic Spaniards at the time of the Arabian conquest. 
Pearls of dazzling whiteness were intwined with her raven 
tresses; and jewels sparkled on her forehead, rivaling the 
luster of her eyes. Around her neck was a golden chain^ 
to which was suspended a silver lyre which hung by her 
side. 

The flashes of her dark, refulgent eye were like sparks 
of fire on the withered yet combustible breast of Aben 
Habuz, and set it in a flame. The swimming voluptuous- 
ness of her gait made his senses reel. " Fairest of 



88 THE ALHAMBRA. 

women/ ^ cried he, with rapture, " who and what art 
thou?^^ 

" The daughter of one of the Gothic princes who lately 
ruled over this land. The armies of my father have been 
destroyed as if by magic among these mountains; he has 
been driven into exile, and his daughter is a slave. •'^ 

" Be comforted, beautiful princess, thou art no longer a 
slave, but a sovereign; turn thine eyes graciously upon 
Aben Habuz, and reign over him and his dominions.-" 

"Beware, oh, king!'^ whispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu 
Ayub; "this may be some spirit conjured up by the 
magicians of the Goths, and sent for thy undoing, or it 
may be one of those northern sorceresses who assume the 
most seducing forms to beguile the unwary. Methinks I 
read witchcraft in her eye and sorcery in every movement. 
Let my sovereign beware — this must be the enemy pointed 
out by the talisman.^' 

" Son of Abu Ayub,^^ replied the king, " you are a wise 
man and a conjurer, I grant, but you are little versed in 
the ways of woman. In the knowledge of the sex I will 
yield to no man; no, not to the wise Solomon himself, 
notwithstanding the number of his wives and his concu- 
bines. As to this damsel, I see much comfort in her for 
my old days, even such comfort as David, the father of 
Solomon, found in the society of Abishag the Shunamite.-*' 

" Hearken, oh, king,^^ rejoined the astrologer, suddenly 
changing his tone. " I have given thee many triumphs over 
thy enemies, and by means of my talisman, yet thou hast 
never given me share of the sjDoils; grant me this one stray 
captive to solace me in my retirement, and I am content. ^^ 

" What!^^ cried Aben Habuz, " more women! Hast thou 
not already dancing women to solace thee — what more 
wouldst thou desire ?^^ 

" Dancing women have I, it is true; but I have none 
that sing, and music is a balm to old age. This captive, I 
perceive, beareth a silver lyre, and must be skilled in 
minstrelsy. Give her to me, I pray thee, to soothe my 
senses after the toil of study. ■'^ 

The ire of the pacific monarch was kindled, and he 
loaded the philosopher with reproaches. The latter retired 
indignantly to his hermitage; but ere he departed, he again 
warned the monarch to beware of his beautiful captive. 
Wheve, in fact, is the old man in love that will listen to 



THE ALHAMBRA. 89 

counsel? Aben Habuz had felt the full power of the 
witchery of the eye and the sorcery of movement, and the 
more he gazed, the more he was enamored. 

He resigned himself to the full sway of his passions. 
His only study was how to render himself amiable in the 
eyes of the Gothic beauty. He had not youth, it is true, 
to recommend him, but then he had riches; and when a 
lover is no longer young, he becomes generous. The 
Zacatin of Granada was ransacked for the most precious 
merchandise of the East. Silks, jewels, precious gems, 
and exquisite perfumes, all that Asia and Africa yielded of 
rich and rare, were lavished upon the princess. She re- 
ceived all as her due, and regarded them with the indiffer- 
ence of one accustomed to magnificence. All kinds of 
spectacles and festivities were devised for her entertain- 
ment; minstrelsy, dancing, tournaments, bull-fights. 
Granada, for a time, was a scene of perpetual pageant. 
The Gothic princess seemed to take a delight in causing 
expense, as if she sought to drain the treasures of the 
monarch. There were no bounds to her caprice or to the 
extravagance of her ideas. Yet, notwithstandmg all this 
munificence, the venerable Aben Habuz could not flatter 
himself that he had made any impression on her heart. 
She never frowned on him, it is true, but she had a singu- 
lar way of baffling his tender advances. Whenever he 
began to plead his passion, she struck her silver lyre. 
There was a mystic charm in the sound; on hearing it, 
an irresistible drowsiness seized upon the superannuated 
lover; he fell asleep, and only woke when the temporary 
fumes of passion had evaporated. Still the dream of love 
had a bewitching power over his senses; so he continued to 
dream on; while all Granada scoffed at his infatuation, and 
groaned at the treasures lavished for a song. 

At length a danger burst over the head of Aben Habuz, 
against which his talisman yielded him no warning. A 
rebellion broke out in the very heart of his capital, headed 
by the bold Eodovan. Aben Habuz was, for a time, be- 
sieged in his palace, and it was not without the greatest 
difficulty that he repelled his assailants and quelled the 
insurrection. 

He now felt himself compelled once more to resort to 
the assistance of the astrologer. He found him still shut 
up in his hermitage, chewing the cud of resentment. 



90 THE ALHAMBRA. 

'' Oh, wise son of Abu Ayub/' said he, "what thou hast 
foretold has, in some sort, come to pass. This Gothic 
princess has brought trouble and danger upon me.'' 

"Is the king, then, disposed to put her away from 
him?" said the astrologer, with animation. 

" Sooner would I part with my kingdom!" replied Aben 
Habuz. 

" What, then, is the need of disturbing me in my philo- 
sophical retirement?" said the astrologer, peevishly. 

" Be not angry, oh, sagest of philosophers. I would 
fain have one more exertion of thy magic art. Devise 
some means by which I may be secure from internal trea- 
son, as Avell as outward war — some safe retreat, where I 
may take refuge and be at j^eace." 

The astrologer ruminated for a moment, and a subtle 
gleam shone from his eye under his bushy eyebrows. 

" Thou hast heard of that garden — marvelous things are 
related of it by the pilgrims who visit Mecca, but I have 
thought them wild fables, such as those are prone to tell 
who visit remote regions." 

" Listen, oh, king, and thou shalt know the mystery of 
that garden. In my younger days I was in Arabia the 
Happy, tending my father's camels. One of them strayed 
away from the rest, and was lost. I searched for it for 
several days about the deserts of Aden, until, wearied and 
faint, I lay myself down and slept mider a palm-tree by 
the side of a scanty well. When I awoke, I fomid myself 
at the gate of a city. I entered and beheld noble streets, 
and squares, and market-places, but all were silent and 
Avithout an inhabitant. I wandered on until I came to a 
sumptuous palace, with a garden adorned with fountains 
and fish-ponds, and groves and flowers, and orchards laden 
with delicious fruit; but still no one was to be seen. Upon 
which, appalled at this loneliness, I hastened to depart, 
and, after issuing forth at the gate of the city, I turned to 
look upon the place, but it was no longer to be seen, noth- 
ing but the silent desert extended before my eyes. 

" In the neighboi;]^ood I met with an aged dervish, 
learned in the traditions and secrets of the land, and re- 
lated to hijn what had befallen me. ^ This,' said he, ' is 
the far-famed garden of Irem, one of the wonders of the 
desert. It only appears at times to some wanderer like 
myself, gladdening him with the sight of towers, and 



THE ALHAMBRA. DJ 

palaces, and garden walls overhung with richly laden fruit- 
trees, and then vanishes, leaving nothing but a lonely 
desert. And this is the story of it : In old times, when 
this country was inhabited by the Addiles, King Sheddad, 
the son of iVd, the great-grandson of Noah, founded here 
a splendid city. When it was finished, and he saw its 
grandeur, his heart was jouffed up with pride and arro- 
gance, and he determined to build a royal palace, with 
gardens that should rival all that was related in the Koran 
of the celestial paradise. But the curse of Heaven fell 
upon him for his presumption. He and his subjects were 
swept from the earth, and his sj^lendid city and palace 
and garden were laid under a perpetual sj^jell, that hides 
them from the human sight, excepting that they are seen 
at intervals, by way of keeping his sin in perjDctual remem- 
brance. ' 

" This story, oh, king, and the wonders I had seen, ever 
dwell in my mind, and, in after years, when I had been in 
Egypt and made myself master of all kinds of magic spells, 
I determhied to return and visit the garden of Irem. I 
did so, and found it revealed to my instructed sight. I took 
possession of the palace of Sheddad, and passed several 
days in his mock paradise. The genii who watch over the 
l^lace were obedient to my magic power, and revealed to 
me the spells by which the whole garden had been, as it 
were, conjured into existence, and by which it was rendered 
invisible. Such sj)ells, oh, king, are within the scope of 
my art. What sayest thou? AYouldst thou have a palace 
and garden like those of Irem, filled with all manner of 
delights, but hidden from the eyes of mortals?^ ^ 

" Oh, wise son of Abu Ayub,'^ exclaimed Aben Habuz, 
trembling with eagerness, " contrive me such a paradise, 
and ask any reward, even to the half of my kingdom. ^^ 

*• Alas,^^ replied the other, " thou knowest I am an old 
man, and a philosopher, and easily satisfied; all the reward 
I ask is the first beast of burden, with its load, that shall 
enter the magic portal of the palace. ^^ 

The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a stipulation, 
and the astrologer began his work. On the summit of tlio 
hill immediately above his subterranean hermitage he 
caused a great gate=way or barbican to be erected, opening 
through tiie center of a strong tower. There was an outer 
vestibule or porch with a lofty arch, and within it a portal 



d2 THE ALHAMBRA. 

secured by massive gates. On the key-stone of the portal 
the astrologer, with his own hand, wrought the figure of a 
huge key, and on the key-stone of the outer arch of the 
vestibule, which was loftier than that of the portal, he 
carved a gigantic hand. These were potent talismans, 
over which he repeated many sentences in an unknown 
tongue. 

When this gate-way was finished, he shut himself up for 
two days in his astrological hall, engaged in secret incanta- 
tions; on the third he ascended the hill, and passed the 
whole day on its summit. At a late hour of the night he 
came down and presented himself before Aben Habuz. 
*^At length, oh, king, J* ^ said he, '^my labor is accom- 
plished. On the summit of the hill stands one of the most 
delectable palaces that ever the head of man devised or the 
heart of man desired. It contains sumptuous halls and 
galleries, delicious gardens, cool fountains, and fragrant 
baths; in a word, the whole moimtain is converted into a 
paradise. Like the garden of Irem, it is protected by a 
mighty charm, which hides it from the view and search of 
mortals, excepting such as possess the secret of its talis- 
mans.'^ 

" Enough, '^ cried Aben Habuz, joyfully; " to-morrow 
morning, bright and early, we will ascend and take posses- 
sion. '^ The hapjoy monarch scarcely slept that night. 
Scarcely had the rays of the sun begun to play about the 
snowy summit of the Sierra Nevada, when he mounted his 
steed, and accompanied only by a few chosen attendants, 
ascended a steep and narrow road leading up the hill. Be- 
side him, on a white palfrey, rode the Gothic princess, her 
dress sparkling with jewels, while roimd her neck was sus- 
2:)ended her silver lyre. The astrologer walked on the other 
side of the king, assisting his steps with Ms hieroglyphic 
staff, for he never mounted steed of any kind. 

Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the promised 
palace brightening above him, and the embowered terraces 
of its gardens stretchiug along the heights, but as yet 
nothing of the kind was to be descried. " That is the 
mystery and safeguard of the place,'' said the astrologer; 
* ' nothing can be discerned until you have passed the spell- 
bound gate-way, and been put in possession of the place.'" 

As they approached the gate-way, the astrologer paused, 
and pointed out to the king the mystic hand and key carved 



THE ALHAMBEA. 93 

upon the portal and the arch. ''These/' said he, *'are 
the tahsmans which guard the entrance to this paradise. 
Until yonder hand shall reach down and seize that key, 
neither mortal power nor magic artifice can prevail against 
the lord of this mountain. '' 

While Aben Habuz was gazing with open mouth and 
silent wonder at these mystic talismans, the palfrey of the 
princess proceeded on, and bore her in at the portal, to the 
very center of the barbican. 

"Behold,'' cried he astrologer, ''my promised reward! 
the first animal, with its burden, that should enter the 
magic gate-way." 

Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a pleasantry 
of the ancient man; but when he found him to be in 
earnest, his gray beard trembled with indignation. 

" Son of Abu Ayub," said he, sternly, " what equivoca- 
tion is this? Thou knowest the meaning of my promise, 
the first beast of burden, with its load, that should enter 
this portal. Take the strongest mule m my stables, load 
it with the most precious things of my treasury, and it is 
thine; but dare not to raise thy thoughts to her, who is the 
delight of my heart." 

" What need I of wealth," cried the astrologer, scorn- 
fully; " have I not the book of knowledge of Solomon the 
AVise, and through it, the command of the secret treasures 
of the earth? The princess is mine by right; thy royal 
word is pledged; I claim her as my own." 

The princess sat upon her palfrey, in the pride of youth 
and beauty, and a light smile of scorn curled her rosy lip 
at this dispute between two gray-beards for her charms. 
The wrath of the monarch got the better of his discretion. 
" Base son of the desert," cried he, " thou mayest be mas- 
ter of many arts, but know me for thy master, and pre- 
sume not to juggle with thy king." 

" My master!" echoed the astrologer, " my king! The 
monarch of a mole-liill to claim sway over him who pos- 
sesses the talismans of Solomon. Farewell, Aben Habuz; 
reign over thy petty kingdom, and revel in thy paradise of 
fools— for me, I will laugh at thee in my philosophic retire- 
ment." 

So saying, he seized the bridle of the palfrey, smote the 
earth with his staff, and sunk with the Gothic princess 
through the center of the barbican. The earth closed over 



01 THE ALHAMBEA. 

them, and no trace remained of the opening by which they 
had descended. Aben Habuz was struck dumb for a time 
with astonishment. Recovering himself, he ordered a 
thousand workmen to dig with pick-ax and spade into the 
ground where the astrologer had disappeared. They dug 
and dug, but in vain; the flinty bosom of the hill resisted 
their implements; or, if they did penetrate a little way, 
the earth filled in again as fast as they threw it out. Aben 
Habuz sought the mouth of the cavern at the foot of the 
hill leading to the subterranean palace of the astrologer; 
but it was nowhere to be found; where once had been an 
entrance was now a solid surface of j)rimeval rock. With 
the disappearance of Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub ceased the 
benefit of his talismans. The bronze horseman remained 
fixed, with his face turned toward the hill, and his spear 
pointed to the spot where the astrologer had descended, as 
if there still lurked the deadliest foe of Aben Habuz. 
From time to time the sound of music and the tones of a 
female voice could be faintly heard from the bosom of the 
hill, and a peasant one day brought word to the king that 
in the preceding night he had found a fissure in the rock, 
by which he had crept in until he looked down into a sub- 
terranean hall, in which sat the astrologer on a magnificent 
divan, slumbering and nodding to the silver lyre of the 
princess, which seemed to hold a magic sway over his 
senses. 

Aben Habuz sought for the fissure in the rock, but it 
was again closed. He renewed the attempt to unearth his 
rival, but all in vain. The spell of the hand and key was 
too potent to be counteracted by human jDower. As to the 
summit of the mountain, the site of the promised palace 
and garden, it remained a naked waste; either the boasted 
Elysium was hidden from sight by enchantment, or was a 
mere fable of the astrologer. The world charitably sup- 
posed the latter, and some used to call the jDlace " the 
king^s folly,^^ while others named it " the fool^s joaradise.^^ 

To add to the chagrin of Aben Habuz, the neighbors, 
whom he had defied and taunted and cut up at his leisure 
while master of the talismanic horseman, finding him no 
longer protected by magic spell, made inroads into his ter- 
ritories from all sides, and the remainder of the life of the 
most pacific of monarchs was a tissue of turmoils. 

At length, Aben Habuz died and was buried. Ages 



THE ALHAM15KA. 95 

have since rolled away. The Alhambra has been built on 
the eventful mountain, and in some measure reahzes the 
fabled delights of the garden of Irem. The spell-bound 
gate-way still exists, protected, no doubt, by the mystic 
hand and key, and now forms the Gate of Justice, the grand 
entrance to the fortress. Under that gate-way, it is said, 
the old astrologer remains in his subterranean hall, nod- 
ding on his divan, lulled by the silver lyre of the princess. 

The old invalid sentinels, who mount guard at the gate, 
hear the strains occasionally in the summer nights, and, 
yielding to their soporific power, doze quietly at their posts. 
Nay, so drowsy an influence pervades the place, that even 
those who watch by day may generally be seen nodding on 
the stone benches of the barbican, or sleeping under the 
neighboring trees; so that it is, in fact, the drowsiest mili- 
tary post in all Christendom. All this, say the legends, will 
endure; from age to age the princess will remain captive to 
the astrologer, and the astrologer, bound up in magic slum- 
ber by the princess, until the last day, unless the mystic 
hand shall grasp the fated key, and dispel the whole charm 
of this enchanted mountain. 



LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRIN- 
CESSES. 

In old times there reigned a Moorish king in Granada, 
whose name was Mohamed, to which his subjects added 
the appellation of el Haygari, or "the Left-handed.^^ 
Some say he was so called on account of his being really 
more expert with his sinister than his dexter hand; others, 
because he was prone to take everything by the wrong end; 
or, in other words, to mar wherever he meddled. Certain 
it is, either through misfortune or mismanagement, he was 
continually in trouble. Thrice was he driven from his 
throne, and on one occasion barely escaped to Africa with 
his life, in the disguise of a fisherman. Still, he was as 
brave as he was blundermg, and, though left-handed, 
wielded his cimeter to such purj^ose that he each time re- 
established himself upon his throne by dint of hard fight- 
ing. Instead, however, of learning wisdom from adversity, 
he hardened his neck, and stiffened his left arm in willful- 
ness. The evils of a public nature which he thus brought 



96 THE ALHAMBKA. 

upon himself and his kingdom may be learned by those 
who will delve into the Arabian annals of Granada; the 
present legend deals but with his domestic policy. 

As this Mohamed was one day riding forth, with a train 
of his courtiers, by the foot of the mountain of Elvira, he 
met a band of horsemen returning from a foray into the 
land of the Christians. They were conducting a long string 
of mules laden with spoils, and many captives of both sexes^ 
among whom, the monarch was struck with the appearance 
of a beautiful damsel richly attired, who sat weepmg on a 
low palfrey, and heeded not the consoling words of a 
duenna who rode beside her. 

The monarch was struck with her beauty, and on inquir- 
ing of the captain of the troop, found that she was the 
daughter of the alcayde of a frontier fortress that had been 
sm'prised and sacked in the course of the foray. 

Mohamed claimed her as his royal share of the booty, 
and had her conveyed to his harem in the Alhambra. 
There everything was devised to soothe her melancholy, 
and the monarch, more and more enamored, sought to 
make her his queen. 

The Spanish maid at first replused his addresses. He 
was an infidel — he was the open foe of her country — what 
was worse, he was stricken in years. 

The monarch, finding his assiduities of no avail, deter- 
mined to enlist in his favor the duenna who had been capt- 
ured* with the lady. She was an Andalusian by birth, 
whose Christian name is forgotten, being mentioned in 
Moorish legends by no other appellation than that of the 
discreet Cadiga — and discreet, in truth, she was, as her 
whole history makes evident. No sooner had the Moorish 
king held a little private conversation with her than she 
saw at once the cogency of his reasoning, and undertook 
his cause with her young mistress. 

" Go to, now!^^ cried she; '' what is there in all this to 
weep and wail about? Is it not better to be mistress of this 
beautiful palace, with all its gardens and foimtains, than to 
be shut up within your father's old frontier tower? As to 
this Mohamed being an infidel, what is that to the pur- 
pose? You marry him — not his rehgion. And if he is 
waxing a little old, the sooner will you be a widow and 
mistress of yourself. At any rate, you are in his poAver, 
and must either be a queen or a slave. When in the hands 



THE ALHAMBRA. 97 

of a robber, it is better to sell one^s merchandise for a fair 
price than to have it taken by main force/ ^ 

The arguments of the discreet Cadiga prevailed. The 
Spanish lady dried her tears and became the spouse of 
Mohamed the Left-handed. She even conformed in ap- 
pearance to the faith of her royal husband, and her discreet 
duenna immediately became a zealous convert to the Mos° 
lem doctrines; it was then the latter received the Arabian 
name of Cadiga, and was permitted to remain in the con- 
fidential employ of her mistress. 

In due process of time, the Moorish king was made the 
j)roud and happy father of three lovely daughters, all born 
at a birth. He could have wished they had been sons, but 
consoled himself with the idea that three daughters at a 
birth were pretty well for a man somewhat stricken in 
years, and left-handed. 

As usual with all Moslem monarchs, he summoned his 
astrologers on this happy event. They cast the nativities 
of the three princesses, and shook their heads. " Daugh- 
ters, oh, king,^' said they, " are always precarious property; 
but these will most need yom' watchfulness when they 
arrive at a marriageable age. At that time gather them 
under your wing, and trust them to no other guardian- 
ship.'^ 

Mohamed the Left-handed was acknowledged by his court- 
iers to be a wise king, and was certainly so considered by 
himself. The prediction of the astrologers caused him but 
little disquiet, trusting to his ingenuity to guard his daugh- 
ters and outwit the fates. 

The threefold birth was the last matrimonial trophy of 
the monarch; his queen bore him no more children, and 
died within a few years, bequeathing her infant daughters 
to his love and to the fidelity of the discreet Cadiga. 

Many years had yet to elapse before the princesses would 
arrive at that period of danger, the marriageable age. 
''It is good, however, to be cautious in time,"' said the 
shrewd monarch; so he determined to have them reared in 
the royal castle of Salobrena. This was a sumptuous 
palace, incrusted, as it were, in a powerful Moorish fortress, 
on the summit of a hill that overlooks the Mediterranean 
Sea. 

It was a royal retreat, in which the Moslem monarchs 
shut up such of their relations as might endanger their 

4 



98 THE ALHAMBKA. 

safety^ allowing them all kinds of luxuries and amusements, 
in the midst of which they passed their lives in voluptuous 
indolence. 

Here the princesses remained, immured from the world, 
but surrounded by enjoyments, and attended by female 
slaves who anticipated their wishes. They had delightful 
gardens for their recreation, filled with the rarest fruits 
and flowers, with aromatic groves and perfumed baths. 
On three sides the castle looked down upon a rich valley, 
enameled with all kinds of culture, and bomided by the 
lofty Alpuxarra mountains; on the other side it overlooked 
the broad, sunny sea. 

In this delicious abode, in a propitious climate, and under 
a cloudless sky, the three 23rincesses grew up into wondrous 
beauty; but, though all reared alike, they gave early tokens 
of diversity of character. Their names were Zayda, 
Zorayda, and Zorahayda; and such was the order of sen- 
iority, for there had been precisely three minutes between 
their births. 

Zayda, the eldest, was of an intrepid spirit, and took the 
lead of her sisters in everything, as she had done in enter- 
ing first into the world. She was curious and mquisitive, 
and fond of getting at the bottom of things. 

Zorayda had a great feeling for beauty, which was the 
reason, no doubt, of her delighting to regard her own 
image in a mirror or a fountain, and of her fondness for 
flowers and jewels and other tasteful ornaments. 

As to Zorahayda, the youngest, she was soft and timid, 
and extremely sensitive, with a vast deal of disposable ten- 
derness, as was evident from her number of pet flowers, 
and pet birds, and pet animals, all of which she cherished 
with the fondest care. Her amusements, too, were of a 
gentle nature, and mixed up with musing and reverie. 
She would sit for hours in a balcony, gazing on the sjDark- 
ling stars of a summer night, or on the sea when lighted 
up by the moon; and at such times the song of a fisherman 
faintly heard from the beach, or the notes of an arrafia or 
Moorish flute from some gliding bark, sufficed to elevate 
her feelings into ecstasy. The least uproar of the ele- 
ments, however, filled her with dismay, and a clap of 
thunder was enough to throw her into a swoon. 

Years moved on serenely, and Cadiga, to whom the 



THE ALHAMBRA, 99 

princesses were confided, was faithful to her trust and 
attended them with unremitting care. 

The castle of Salobrena, as has been said, was built upon 
a hill on the sea-coast. One of the exterior walls straggled 
down the profile of the hill, until it reached a jutting rock 
overhanging the sea, with a narrow sandy beach at its foot, 
laved by the rippling billows. A small watch-tower on 
this rock had been fitted up as a pavilion, with latticed 
windows to admit the sea-breeze. Here the princesses used 
to pass the sultry hours of midday. 

The curious Zayda was one day seated at one of the win- 
dows of the pavilion, as her sisters, reclined on ottomans, 
were taking the siesta, or noontide slumber. Her attention 
had been attracted to a galley which came coasting along 
with measured strokes of the oar. As it drew near, she 
observed that it was filled with armed men. The galley 
anchored at the foot of the tower; a number of Moorish 
soldiers landed on the narrow beach, conducting several 
Christian prisoners. The curious Zayda awakened her 
sisters, and all three peeped cautiously through the close 
jalousies of the lattice, which screened them from sight. 
Among the prisoners were three Spanish cavaliers richly 
dressed. They were in the flower of youth, and of noble 
presence, and the lofty manner in which they carried them- 
selves, though loaded with chains and surrounded with 
enemies, bespoke the grandeur of their souls. The prin- 
cesses gazed with intense and breathless interest. Cooped 
up as they had been in this castle among female attend- 
ants, seeing nothing of the male sex but black slaves, or 
the rude fishermen of the sea-coast, it is not to be wondered 
at that the appearance of three gallant cavaliers in the 
pride of youth and manly beauty should produce some 
commotion in their bosoms. 

" Did ever nobler being tread the earth than that cava- 
lier in crimson ?^^ cried Zayda, the eldest of the sisters. 
" See how proudly he bears himself, as though all around 
liim were his slaves!^' 

"But notice that one in green, ^^ exclaimed Zorayda; 
" what grace! what elegance! what spirit!^' 

The gentle Zorahayda said nothing, but she secretly gave 
preference to the cavalier in green. 

The princesses remained gazing until the prisoners were 
out of sight; then, heaving long-drawn sighs, they turned 



100 THE ALHAMBRA. 

round;, looked at one another for a moment, and sat down, 
musing and pensive, on their ottomans. 

The discreet Cadiga found them in this situation; they 
related to her what they had seen, and even the withered 
heart of the duenna was warmed. *' Poor youths!'^ ex- 
claimed she, '^ 1^11 warrant their captivity makes many a 
fair and high-born lady's heart ach5 in their native land! 
Ah, my children, you have little idea of the life these cava- 
liers lead in their own country. Such j^rankling at tourna- 
ments! such devotion to the ladies! such courting and 
serenading !'' 

The curiosity of Zayda was fully aroused. She was 
insatiable in her inqidries, and drew from the duenna the 
most animated pictures of the scenes of her youthful days 
and native land. The beautiful Zorayda bridled up, and 
sl5dy regarded herself in a mirror, when the theme turned 
upon the charms of the Spanish ladies, while Zorahayda 
suppressed a struggling sigh at the mention of moonlight 
serenades. 

Every day the curious Zayda renewed her inquiries, and 
every day the sage duenna repeated her stories, which were 
listened to with unmoved interest, though frequent sighs, 
by her gentle auditors. The discreet old woman at length 
awakened to the mischief she might be doing. She had 
l/een accustomed to think of the jDrin cesses only as children, 
but they had impercejDtibly ripened beneath her eye, and 
now bloomed before her three lovely damsels of the mar- 
riageable age. It is time, thought the duenna, to give 
notice to the king. 

Mohamed the Left-handed was seated one morning on a 
divan in one of the court halls of the Alhambra, when a 
noble arrived fi'om the fortress of Salobrena, with a 
message from the sage Cadiga, congratulating him on the 
anniversary of his daughters' birthday. The slave at the 
same time presented a delicate little basket decorated with 
flowers, withm which, on a couch of vine and fig-leaves, 
lay a peach, an apricot, and a nectarine, with their bloom 
and down and dewy sweetness upon them, and all in the 
early stage of tempting ripeness. The monarch was versed 
in the Oriental language of fruits and flowers, and readily 
divined the meaning of this emblematical oSering. 

'^ So/' said he, " the critical period pointed out by the 
astrologers is arrived. My daughters are at a marriageable 



THE ALHAMBKA. 101 

age. What is to be done? They are shut up from the 
eyes of men — they are under the eye of the discreet Cadiga 
—all very good — but still they are not under my own eye, 
as was prescribed by the astrologers. ' I must gather them 
under my wing, and trust to no other guardianship.' '" 

So saying, he ordered that a tower of the Alhambra 
should be prepared for their reception, and departed at the 
head of his guards for the fortress of Salobrena, to conduct 
them home in person. 

About three years had elapsed since Mohamed had be- 
held his daughters, and he could scarcely credit his eyes at 
the wonderful change which that small space of time had 
made in their appearance. During the interval they had 
passed that wondrous boundary line in female life which 
separates the crude, unformed, and thoughtless girl from 
the blooming, blushing, meditative woman. It is like pass- 
ing from the flat, bleak, uninteresting pains of La Mancha 
to the voluptuous valleys and swelhng hills of Andalusia. 

Zayda was tall and finely formed, with a lofty demeanor 
and a penetrating eye. She entered with a stately and de- 
cided step, and made a profound reverence to Mohamed, 
treating him more as her sovereign than her father. 
Zorayda was of the middle height, with an alluring look 
and swimming gait, and a sparkling beauty heightened by 
the assistance of the toilet. She approached her father 
with a smile, kissed his hand, and saluted him wath several 
stanzas from a popular Arabian poet, with which the 
monarch was delighted. Zorahayda was shy and timid, 
smaller than her sisters, and with a beauty of that tender, 
beseeching kind which looks for fondness and protection. 
She was little fitted to command, like her elder sister, or to 
dazzle, like the second; but was rather formed to creep to 
the bosom of manly affection, to nestle within it, and be 
content. She drew near her father with a timid and almost 
faltering step, and would have taken his hand to kiss, but 
on looking up into his face, and seeing it beaming with a 
paternal smile, the tenderness of her natm-e broke forth, 
and she threw herself upon his neck. 

Mohamed the Left-handed surveyed his blooming daugh- 
ters with mingled pride and perplexity; for while he exulted 
in their charms, he bethought himself of the prediction of 
the astrologers. "Three daughters!— three daughters!'' 
muttered he repeatedly to himself, " and all of a mar- 



102 THE ALHAMBRA. 

riageable age! Here's tempting hesperian fruit that re- 
quires a dragon watch !^' 

He prepared for his return to Granada by senduig 
heralds before him, commanding every one to keep out of 
the road by which he was to pass, and that all doors and 
windows should be closed at the approach of the princesses. 
This done, he set forth, escorted by a troop of black horse- 
men of hideous aspect and clad in shining armor. 

The princesses rode beside the king, closely veiled, on 
beautiful white palfreys, with velvet caparisons embroidered 
with gold, and sweeping the ground; the bits and stirrups 
were of gold, and the silken bridles adorned with pearls 
and precious stones. The palfreys were covered with little 
silver bells that made the most musical tinkling as they 
ambled gently along. Woe to the unlucky wight, however, 
who lingered in the way when he heard the tinkling of 
these bells — the guards were ordered to cut liim down with- 
out mercy. 

The cavalcade was drawing near to Granada, when it 
overtook, on the banks of the river Xenil, a small body of 
Moorish soldiers, with a convoy of prisoners. It was too 
late for the soldiers to get out of the way, so they threw 
themselves on their faces on the earth, ordermg their cap- 
tives to do the like. Among the prisoners were the three 
identical cavaliers whom the princesses had seen from the 
pavilion. They either did not understand, or were too 
haughty to obey the order, and remained standing and 
gazing upon the cavalcade as it approached. 

The ire of the monarch was kindled at this flagrant de- 
fiance of his orders, and he determined to punish it with 
liis own hand. Drawing his cimeter and pressing forward, 
he was about to deal a left-handed blow that would have 
been fatal to at least one of the gazers, when the princesses 
crowded romid him, and implored mercy for the prisoners; 
even the timid Zorahayda forgot her sh5rQess and became 
eloquent in their behalf. Mohamed paused, with uplifted 
cimeter, when the captain of the guard threw himself at 
his feet. '' Let not your majesty,^-' said he, " do a deed 
that may cause great scandal throughout the kingdom. 
These are three brave and noble Spanish knights who have 
been taken in battle, fighting like hons; they are of high 
birth, and may bring great ransoms. ^^ 

" Enough/^ said the king; " I will spare tiieir lives, but 



THE ALHAMBRA. 103 

puiiish their audacity; let them be taken to the Vermihon 
Towers and put to hard labor." 

Mohamed was making one of his usual left-handed blun- 
ders. In the tumult and agitation of tliis blustering scene, 
the veils of the three princesses had been thrown back, and 
the radiance of their beauty revealed, and in prolonging 
the parley, the king had given that beauty time to have its 
full effect. In those days people fell in love much more 
suddenly than at present, as all ancient stories make mani- 
fest; it is not a matter of wonder, therefore, that the hearts 
of the three cavaliers were completely captivated, especially 
as gratitude was added to their admiration; it is a little 
singular, however, though no less certain, that each of 
them was enraptured with a several beauty. As to the 
princesses, they were more than ever struck with the noble 
demeanor of the captives, and cherished in their hearts all 
that they had heard of their valor and noble lineage. 

The cavalcade resumed its march; the three prmcesses 
rode pensively along on their tinkling palfreys, now and 
then stealing a glance behind in search of the Christian 
captives, and the latter were conducted to their allotted 
prison in the Vermilion Towers. 

The residence provided for the princesses was one of the 
most dainty that fancy could devise. It was in a tower 
somewhat apart from the main palace of the Alhambra, 
though connected with it by the main wall that encircled 
the whole summit of the hill. On one side it looked into 
the interior of the fortress, and had at its foot a small gar- 
den filled with the rarest flowers. On the other side it 
overlooked a deep embowered ravine, that separated the 
grounds of the Alhambra from those of the Generaliffe. 
The interior of the tower was divided into small fairy 
apartments, beautifully ornamented in the light Arabian 
st3de, surroimding a lofty hall, the vaulted roof of which 
rose almost to the summit of the tower. The walls and 
ceiling of the hall were adorned with arabesques and fret- 
work sparkling with gold and with brilliant penciling. In 
the center of the marble pavement was an alabaster fount- 
ain, set round with aromatic shrubs and flowers, and throw- 
ing up a jet of water that cooled the whole edifice and had a 
lulling sound. Round the hall were suspended cages of 
gold and silver wire containing singing-birds of the finest 
plumage or sweetest note. 



104 THE ALHAlkrBRA. 

The princesses having been represented as always cheer- 
ful when in the castle of Salobrena^ the king had expected 
to see them enraptured with the Alhambra. To his sur- 
prise, however, they began to pine, and grew gx-^en and 
melancholy, and dissatisfied with everything around them. 
The flowers yielded them no fragrance: the song of the 
nightingale disturbed their night ^s rest, and they were out 
of all patience with the alabaster fountain, with its eternal 
drop, drop, and splash, splash, from morning till night 
and from night till morning. 

The king, who was somewhat of a testy, tyrannical old 
man, took this at first in high dudgeon; but he reflected 
that his daughters had arrived at an age when the female 
mind expands and its desires augment. *' They are no 
longer children, ^^ said he to himself; ''they are women 
grown, and require suitable objects to interest them." 
He put in requisition, therefore, all the dress-makers, and 
the jewelers, and the artificers in gold and silver through- 
out the Zacatin of Granada, and the princesses were over- 
whelmed with robes of silk, and of tissue and of brocade, 
and cashmere shawls, and necklaces of pearls, and dia- 
monds, and rings, and bracelets, and anklets, and all man- 
ner of precious things. 

All, however, was of no avail. The princesses con- 
tinued pale and languid m the midst of their finery, and 
looked like three blighted rose-buds drooping from one 
stalk. The king was at his wits^ end. He had in general 
a laudable confidence in his own judgment, and never took 
advice. " The whims and caprices of three marriageable 
damsels, however, are sufficient, ''' said he, " to puzzle the 
shrewdest head.''^ So, for once in his life, he called in the 
aid of counsel. 

The person to whom he applied was the experienced 
duenna. 

" Oadiga," said the king, " I know you to be one of the 
most discreet women in the whole world, as well as one of 
the most trustworthy; for these reasons, I have always 
continued you about the persons of my daughters. Fathers 
can not be too wary in whom they repose such confidence. 
I now wish you to find out the secret malady that is prey- 
ing upon the princesses, and to devise some means of re- 
storing them to health and cheerfulness." 

Cadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact, she knew 



THE ALHAMBRA. 105 

more of the malady of the prhicesses than they did them- 
selves. Shutting herself up with them, however, she en- 
deavored to insinuate herself into their confidence. 

" My dear children, what is the reason you are so dismal 
and downcast in so beautiful a place, where you have 
everything that heart can wish?'' 

The princesses looked vacantly romid the apartment, and 
sighed. 

'' What more, then, would you have? Shall I get you 
the wonderful parrot that talks all languages and is the 
delis^ht of Granada?'' .. * i, -^ 

' '"Odious!" exclaimed the Princess Zayda. A liorria 
screaming bird that chatters words without ideas! One 
must be without brains to tolerate such a pest." 

" Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of (Gibraltar, 
to divert you with his antics?" 

"A monkey? faugh!" cried Zorayda, ''the detestable 
mimic of man. I hate the nauseous animal. " 

" What say you to the famous black singer, Casem, trom 
the royal harem in Morocco? They say he has a voice as 
fine as a woman's." -,,11 » -i 

" I am terrified at the sight of these black slaves, said 
the delicate Zorahayda; ''besides, I have lost all relish tor 
music." 

" Ah, my child, you would not say so," replied the old 
woman, slyly, " had you heard the music I heard last even- 
ing, from the three Spanish cavaliers whom we met on our 
journey. But bless me, children! what is the matter that 
you blush so and are in such a flutter?" ^^ 

" Nothing, nothing, good mother; pray proceed. 
*' Well, as I was passing by the Vermilion Towers, last 
evening, I saw the three cavaliers resting after their day s 
labor. One was playing on the guitar so gracefully, and 
the others sung by turns— and they did it in such style that 
the very guards seemed like statues or men enchanted. 
Allah forgive me! I could not help being moved at hearing 
the songs" of my native country. And then to see three 
such noble and handsome youths in chains and slavery. 
Here the kind-hearted old woman could not restrain her 

tears 

" Perhaps, mother, you could manage to procure us a 
sight of these cavaliers," said Zayda. 



106 THE ALHAMBRA. 

" I thiiik/' said Zorayda^ *' a little music would be quite 
reviving/^ 

The timid Zorahayda said nothing, but threw her arms 
round the neck of Cadiga. 

"Mercy on me!^' exclaimed the discreet old woman, 
" what are you talking of, my children? Your father 
would be the death of us all, if he heard of such a thing. 
To be sure, these cavaliers are evidently well-bred and 
high-minded youths — but what of that? they are the ene- 
mies of our faith, and you must not even think of them but 
with abhorrence/^ 

There is an admirable intrepidity in the female will, 
particularly about the marriageable age, which is not to be 
deterred by dangers and prohibitions. The princesses 
hung round their old duenna, and coaxed and entreated, 
and declared that a refusal would break their hearts. 
What could she do? She was certainly the most discreet 
okl woman in the whole world, and one of the most faithf al 
servants to the king — but was she to see three beautiful 
princesses break their hearts for the mere tinkling of a 
guitar? Beside, though she had been so long among the 
Moors, and changed her faith, in imitation of her mistress, 
like a trusty follower, yet she was a Spaniard born, and 
had the lingerings of Christianity in her heart. So she set 
about to contrive how the wishes of the prmcesses might be 
gratified. 

The Christian captives confined in the Vermilion Towers 
were under the charge of a big-whiskered, broad-shouldered 
renegade, called Hussein Baba, who was reported to have a 
most itching palm. She went to liim privately, and slip- 
ping a broad piece of gold into his hand, " Hussein Baba,"*' 
said she, " my mistresses, the three princesses, who are 
shut up in the tower, and in sad want of amusement, have 
heard of the musical talents of the three Spanish cavaliers, 
and are desirious of hearing a specimen of their skill. I 
am sure you are too kind-hearted to refuse them so inno- 
cent a gratification.'^ 

*' What, and to have my head set grinning over the gate 
of my own tower — for that would be the reward, if the 
king should discover it.''' 

" No danger of anything of the kind; the affair may be 
managed so that the whim of the princesses may be grati- 
fied, and their father be never the wiser. You know the 



THE ALHAM15RA. 107 

deep ravine outside of the walls^ that passes immeaiately 
below the tower. Put the three Christians to work there, 
and at the intervals of their labor let them play and sing, 
as if for their own recreation. In this way the princesses 
will be able to hear them from the windows of the tower, 
and you may be sure of their playing well for your com- 
pliance.^' 

As the good old woman concluded her harangue, she 
kindly pressed the rough hand of the renegado, and left 
within it another piece of gold. 

Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next day the 
three cavaliers were put to work in the ravine. During 
the noontide heat, when their fellow-laborers were sleeping 
in the shade, and the guard nodded drowsily at his post, 
they seated themselves among the herbage at the foot of 
the tower, and sung a Spanish roimdelay to the accom- 
paniment of the guitar. 

The glen was deep, the tower was high, but their voices 
rose distinctly in the stillness of the summer noon. The 
princesses listened from their balcony; they had been 
taught the Spanish language by their duenna, and were 
moved by the tenderness of the song. 

The discreet Oadiga, on the contrary, was terribly 
shocked. " Allah preserve us!^' cried she, '^ they are sing- 
ing a love ditty addressed to yourselves! Did ever mortal 
hear of such audacity? I will run to the slave-master and 
have them soundly bastinadoed. '^ 

" What, bastinado such gallant cavaliers, and for smg- 
mg so charmingly?^' The three beautiful princesses were 
filled with horror at the idea. With all her virtuous indig- 
nation, the good old woman was of a placable nature and 
easily appeased. Besides, the music seemed to have a 
beneficial effect uj^on her young mistresses. A rosy bloom 
had already come to their cheeks, and their eyes began to 
sparkle. She made no further objection, therefore, to the 
amorous ditty of the cavaliers. 

When it was finished, the princesses remained silent for 
a time; at length Zorayda took up a lute, and with a sweet 
though faint and trembling voice, warbled a little Arabian 
air, the burden of which was, " The rose is concealed 
among her leaves, but she listens with delight to the song 
of the nightingale.'' 

From this time forward the cavaliers worked almost 



108 THE ALHAMBRA. 

daily in the ravine. The considerate Hussein Baba became 
more and more indulgent, and daily more prone to sleep at 
his post. For some time a vague intercourse was kept up 
by popular songs and romances, which in some measure 
responded to one another, and breathed the feelings of the 
parties. By degrees the princesses showed themselves at 
the balcony, when they could do so without being perceived 
by the guards. They conversed with the cavaljcrs also by 
means of flowers, with the symbolical language of which 
they were mutually acquainted; the difficidties of their 
intercourse added to its charms, and strengthened the pas- 
sion they had so singularly conceived; for love delights to 
struggle with difficulties, and thrives the most hardily on 
the scantiest soil. 

The change effected in the looks and spirits of the prin- 
cesses by this secret intercourse surprised and gratified the 
left-handed king; but no one was more elated than the dis- 
creet Cadiga, who considered it all owing to her able 
management. 

At length there was an interruption m this telegraphic 
correspondence; for several days the cavaliers ceased to* 
make their appearance in the glen. The three beautiful 
princesses looked out from the tower in vain. In vain they 
stretched their swan-like necks from the balcony; in vain 
they sung like captive nightingales in their cage; nothuig 
was to be seen of their Christian lovers, not a note re- 
sponded from the groves. The discreet Cadiga sallied 
forth in quest of intelligence, and soon retui-ned with a face 
full of trouble. "Ah, my children!'^ cried she, "I saw 
what all this would come to, but you would have your way; 
you may now hang up your lutes on the willows. The 
Spanish cavaliers are ransomed by their families; they are 
down in Granada, and preparing to return to their native 
country.^' 

The three beautiful princesses were hi despair at the 
tidings. The fair Zayda was indignant at the slight put 
upon them in being thus deserted without a parting word. 
Zorayda wrung her hands, and cried, and looked in the 
glass, and wij^ed away her tears, and cried afresh. The 
gentle Zorahayda leaned over the balcony, and wejDt in 
silence, and her tears fell, drop by drop, among the flowers 
of the bank where the faithless cavaliers had so often been 
seated. 



THE ALHAMBEA. 109 

The discreet Cadiga did all in her power to soothe their 
sorrow. ^' Take comfort, my children/^ said she; '' this is 
nothing when you are used to it. This is the way of the 
world. Ah, when you are as old as I am, you will know 
how to value these men. I'll warrant these cavaliers have 
their loves among the Spanish beauties of Cordova and 
Seville, and will soon be serenading under their balconies, 
and thinking no more of the Moorish beauties in the 
Alhambra. Take comfort, therefore, my children, and 
drive them from your hearts.'^ 

The comforting words of the discreet Cadiga only re- 
doubled i\\Q distress of the princesses, and for two days they 
continued inconsolable. On the morning of the third, the 
good old woman entered their apartment, all ruffling with 
indignation. 

" Who would have believed such insolence in mortal 
man?'' exclaimed she, as soon as she could find words to 
express herself; '' but I am rightly served for having con- 
nived at this deception of your worthy father — never talk 
more to me of your Spanish cavaliers.''' 

*^Why, what has ha2:)pened, good Cadiga?" exclaimed 
the princesses, in breathless anxiety. 

" What has happened? treason has happened! — or, what 
is almost as bad, treason has been proposed — and to me — 
the faithfulest of subjects — the trustiest of duennas — yes, 
my children — the Spanish cavaliers have dared to tamper 
with me, that I should persuade you to fly with them to 
Cordova, and become their wives." 

Here the excellent old woman covered her face with her 
hands, and gave way to a violent burst of grief and indig- 
nation. 

The three beautiful princesses turned pale and red, and 
trembled, and looked down, and cast shy looks at one 
another, but said nothing; meantime, the old woman sat 
rocking backward and forward in violent agitation, and 
now and then breaking out into exclamations: " That ever 
I should live to be so insulted — T, the faithfulest of serv- 
ants!" 

At length the eldest princess, who had most spirit, and 
always took the lead, approached her, and lajdng her hand 
upon her shoulder: " Well, mother," said she, " supposing 
we were willing to fly with these Christian cavaliers — is 
such a thing possible?" 



no THE ALHAMBKA. 

The good old woman paused suddenly in her grief, and 
looking up: ''Possible!'^ echoed she, '*to be sure it is 
possible. Have not the cavaliers already bribed Hussein 
Baba, the renegado captain of the guard, and arranged the 
whole plan? But then, to think of deceivuig your father — 
your father, who has placed such confidence in me!^^ 

Here the worthy old woman gave way to a fresh burst of 
grief, and began again to rock backward and forward, and 
to wring her hands. 

" But our father has never placed any confidence in us,^^ 
said the eldest princess; " but has trusted to bolts and 
bars, and treated us as cai^tives.^^ 

" Why, that is true enough, ^^ replied the old woman, 
again pausing in her grief. ' ' He has indeed treated you 
most imreasonably. Keeping you shut up here to waste 
your bloom in a moping old tower, like roses left to wither 
in a flower-jar. But then, to fly from your native land!^' 

*' And is not the land we fly to the native land of our 
mother, where we shall live in freedom? and shall we not 
each have a youthful husband in exchange for a severe old 
father?^' 

" Why, that again is all very true — and your father, I 
must confess, is rather tyrannical. But what then " — 
relapsing into her grief — " would you leave me behind to 
bear the brunt of his vengeance?'^ 

'' By no means, my good Cadiga. Can not you fly with 



us: 



p^> 



" Very true, my child; and, to tell the truth, when I 
talked the matter over with Hussein Baba, he promised to 
take care of me if I would accompany you in your flight; 
but then, bethink you, my children; are you willing to 
renounce the faith of your father?'^ 

" The Christian faith was the original faith of our 
mother,^' said the eldest princess; " I am ready to em- 
brace it; and so, I am sure, are my sisters.'^ 

'^ Eight again!'' exclaimed the old woman, brightening 
u]^. '' It was the original faith of your mother; and bit- 
terly did she lament, on her death-bed, that she had re- 
nounced it. I promised her then to take care of your 
souls, and I am rejoiced to see that they are now in a fair 
way to be saved. Yes, my children; I, too, was born a 
Christian — and have always been a Christian in my heart, 
and am resolved to return to the faith. I have talked on 



THE ALHAMBRA. ^ 



ihe subiect with Hussein Baba, who is a Spaniard by bir^, 
• w nVl woman had consulted with the cavaners and 

however, as usual, gained the victory and mh silent tears 
onrl stifled sishs she prepared herself lor flight. 

The rt^ 'ed Mil on wliich the Alhambra is built was m 
old timS perforated with subterranean passages cut 
throu<^hthe^rock and leading from the fortress to vanous 
Si^of the f y, and to dista^^^^^^^^^ f^ 

*fle°eTtimest; tfirMooilKgs, as means of escape 
from sudden insurrection, or of secretly issumg forth on 

SwaT-lke stratagems of the Moorish goyemment. By 
one oTttiese passage! Hussein Baba had undertaken to con- 
Tct he prinCssef to a sally-port beyond the wal s of the 
city where the cavaliers were to be ready with fleet steeds 

^^^t^pZi^ed^n^K.'^^^^ The tower of the prin- 
cesl'^sMSCn^ckSl up, as usual, aij^i the Alhambra w^^^ 
buried in deep sleep. Toward midnight the discreet; 
Saa listened from a balcony of a window that looked 
fntfhelSn. Hussein Babl, the -negado, w- ai e^^^ 
below and gave the appointed signal. The duenna lasx 
ened the end of a ladder of ropes to the balcony, lowered it 
tnto the gTrden, and descended. The two eldest prmcesses 
o lowedler with beating hearts; but f^n it came to the 

turn of the youngest princess, Z^^^^^Jf ^^J',? ^?f S Ct 
trembled. Several t mes she ventured a delicate httie loot 
upon tto ladder, and as often drew it back, while her poor 



112 THE ALHAMBEA. 

little heart fluttered more and more the longer she delayed. 
She cast a wistful look back into the silken chamber; she 
had lived in it;, to be sure, like a bird in a cage, but within 
she was secure — who could not tell what dangers might 
beset her, should she flutter forth into the wide world? 
Iv'ow she bethought her of her gallant Christian lover, and 
her little foot was instantly upon the ladder, and anon she 
thought of her father, and shrunk back. But fruitless is 
the attenijDt to describe the conflict in the bosom of one so 
young, and tender, and loving, but so timid and so ignorant 
of the world. In vain her sisters implored, the duenna 
scolded, and the renegado blasphemed beneath the balcony. 
The gentle little Moorish maid stood, doubting and waver- 
ing, on the verge of elopement, tempted by the sweetness 
of the sin, but terrified at its perils. 

Every moment increased the danger of discovery. A 
distant tramp was heard. " The patrols are walking the 
rounds !^^ cried the renegado; *' if we linger longer we 
perish — princess, descend instantly, or we leave you!^^ 

Zorahaycla was for a moment in fearful agitation, then, 
loosening the ladder of ropes, with desperate resolution she 
flimg it from the balcony. 

"It is decided, ^^ cried she; " flight is now out of my 
power! Allah guide and bless ye, my dear sisters !^^ 

The two eldest princesses were shocked at the thoughts 
of leaving her behind, and would fain have lingered, but 
the patrol was advancing; the renegado was furious, and 
they were hurried away to the subterraneous passage. 
They groped their way through a fearful lab3rrinth cut 
through the heart of the mountain, and succeeded in reach- 
ing, undiscovered, an iron gate that opened outside of the 
walls. The Spanish cavaliers were waiting to receive them, 
"■^disguised as Moorish soldiers of the guard commanded by 
the renegado. 

The lover of Zorahayda w^as frantic when he learned that 
she had refused to leave the tower; but there was no time 
to waste in lamentations. The two princesses were placed 
behind their lovers; the discreet Cadiga mounted behind 
the renegado, and all set off at a romid pace in the direc- 
tion of the pass of Lope, which leads through he mount- 
ains toward Cordova. 

They had not proceeded far when they heard the noise of 



THE ALHAMBRA. 113 

drums and trumpets from the battlements of the Alhambra. 
" Our flight is discovered/' said the renegado. 

" We have fleet steeds, the night is dark, and we may 
distance all pursuit/' replied the cavaliers. 

They put spurs to their horses and scoured across the 
Vega. They attained the foot of the mountain of 
Elvira, which stretches like a promontory into the plain. 
The renegado paused and listened. *' As yet,'' said he, 
*' there is no one on our tracks; we shall make good our 
escape to the mountains." While he spoke, a ball of fire 
sprmig up in a light blaze on the top of the watch-tower of 
the Alhambra. 

** Confusion!" cried the renegado, *'that fire will put 

all the guards of the passes on the alert. Away, away! 

^^i spur like mad! there is no time to be lost!" 

A. Away they dashed — the clattering of their horses' hoofs 

/ echoed from rock to rock as they swept along the road that 

£/ skirts the rocky mountain of Elvira. As they galloped on, 

y they beheld that the ball of fire of the Alhambra was 

answered in every direction; light after light blazed on the 

atalayas or watch-towers of the momitains. 

" Forward! forward!" cried the renegado, with many an 
oath — " to the bridge! to the bridge! before the alarm has 
reached there." 

They doubled the promontory of the mountain, and 
arrived in sight of the famous Puente del Pinos, that 
crosses a rushing stream often dyed with Christian and 
Moslem blood. To their confusion the tower on the bridge 
blazed with lights and glittered with armed men. The 
renegado pulled up his steed, rose in his stirrups, and 
looked about him for a moment, then beckoning to the 
cavaliers, he struck off from the road, skirted the river for 
some distance, and dashed into its waters. The cavaliers 
called upon the princesses to cling to them, and did the 
same. They were borne for some distance down the rai)id 
current, the surges roared round them, but the beautiful 
princesses clung to their Christian knights and never ut- 
tered a complaint. The cavaliers attained the opposite 
bank in safety, and were conducted by the renegado, by 
rude and unfrequented paths and wild barrancos, through 
the heart of the mountains, so as to avoid all the regular 
passes. In a word, they succeeded in reaching the ancient 
city of Cordova; when their restoration to their coimtry 



114 THE ALHAMBBA. 

and friends was celebrated with great rejoicings, for they 
were of the noblest families. The beautiful princesses 
were forthwith received into the bosom of the Church, and 
after being in all due form made regular Christians, were 
rendered happy lovers. 

In our hurry to make good the escape of the princesses 
across the river and up the mountains, we forgot to men- 
tion the fate of the discreet Cadiga. She had clung like a 
cat to Hussein Baba, in the scamper across the Vega, 
screaming at every bound and drawing many an oath from 
the whiskered renegade; but when he prepared to plunge 
his steed into the river, her terror knew no bounds. 

^' Grasp me not so tightly, ^^ cried Hussein Baba; " hold 
on by my belt, and fear nothing.^' 

She held firmly with both hands by the leather belt that 
girded the broad-backed renegade; but when he halted with 
the cavaliers to take breath on the mountain summit, the 
duenna was no longer to be seen. 

'' What has become of Cadiga?^ ^ cried the princesses, in 
alarm. 

" I know not,^' replied the renegado. '' My belt came 
loose m the midst of the river, and Cadiga was swept with 
it doTvai the stream. The will of Allah be done! but it 
was an embroidered belt, and of great price. ^^ 

There was no time to waste in idle reports, yet bitterly 
did the princesses bewail the loss of their faithful and dis- 
creet counselor. That excellent old woman, however, did 
not lose more than half of her nine lives in the stream. A 
fisherman who was drawing his nets some distance down 
the stream brought her to land, and was not a little aston- 
ished at his miraculous draught. What further became of 
the discreet Cadiga, the legend does not mention. Certain 
it is that she evinced her discretion in never venturing 
within the reach of Mohamed the Left-handed. 

Almost as little is known of the conduct of that sagacious 
monarch, when he discovered the escape of his daughters 
and the deceit practiced upon him by the most faithful of 
servants. It was the only instance in which he had called 
in the aid of counsel, and he was never afterward known to 
be guilty of a similar weakness. He took good care, how- 
ever, to guard his remaining daughter, who had no dispo- 
sition to elope. It is thought, indeed, that she secretly 
repented having remained behind. Now and then she was 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



115 



seen leaning on the battlements of the tower and lookmg 
mournf ally toward the mountams, in the du-ection ot Cor- 
dova; and sometimes the notes of her lute were heard ac- 
companying plaintive ditties, in which she was said to 
lament the loss of her sisters and her lover, and to bewail 
her solitary life. She died young, and, according to 
popular rumor, was buried in a vault beneath the tower, 
and her untimely fate has given rise to more than one tra- 
ditionary fable. 

LOCAL TRADITIONS. 

The common people of Spain have an Oriental passion 
for story-telling and are fond of the marvelous. They will 
gather round the doors of their cottages on summer even- 
ings, or in the great cavernous chimney-corners ol their 
ventas in the winter, and listen with insatiable delight to 
miraculous legends of saints, perilous adventures of travel- 
ers, and daring exploits of robbers and contrabandistas. 
The wild and solitary nature of a great part ot bpam; tlie 
imperfect state of knowledge; the scantmess of general 
topics of conversation, and the romantic, adventurous iile 
that every one leads in a land where traveling is yet m its 
primitive state, all contribute to cherish this love ot oral 
narration, and to produce a strong expression ot the 
extravagant and wonderful. There is no theme, however, 
more prevalent or popular than that of treasures buried by 
the Moors. It pervades the whole country. In traversing 
the wild Sierras, the scenes of ancient prey and exploit, 
you can not see a Moorish atalaya or watch-tower perched 
among the cliffs, or beetling above its rock-bmlt village, 
but your muleteer, on being closely questioned, will sus- 
pend the smoking of his cigarillo to tell some tale ot Mos- 
lem gold buried beneath its foundations; nor is there a 
ruined alcazar in a city, but has its golden tradition handed 
down from generation to ganeration among the poor 
people of the neighborhood. 

These, like most popular fictions, have had some gi-ound- 
work in fact. During the wars between Moor and Chris- 
tian, which distracted the country for centuries, towns and 
castles were hable frequently and suddenly to change 
owners; and the inhabitants, during sieges and assaults, 
were fain to bury their money and jewels m the earth, or 
hide them m vaults and wells, as is often done at the 



116 THE ALHAMF.KA. 

present day in the despotic and belligerent countries of tlie 
East. At the time of the expulsion of the Moors, also, 
many of them concealed their most precious effects, hoping 
that their exile would be but temjwrary, and that they 
would be enabled to return and retrieve their treasures at 
some future day. It is certain that, from time to time, 
hoards of gold and silver coin have been accidentally dug 
up, after a lapse of centuries, from among the ruins o"t 
Moorish fortresses and habitations, and it requires but a 
few facts of the kind to give birth to a thousand fictions. 

The stories thus originating have generally something 
of an Oriental tinge, and are marked with that mixture of 
the Arabic and Gothic which seems to me to characterize 
everything in Spain, and esjDecially in its southern prov- 
inces. The hidden wealth is always laid mider magic spell, 
and secured by charm and talisman. Sometimes it is 
guarded by uncouth monsters, or fiery dragons; sometimes 
by enchanted Moors, who sit by it in armor, with drawn 
swords, but motionless as statues, maintaining a sleepless 
watch for ages. 

The Alhambra, of course, from the peculiar circum- 
stances of its history, is a stronghold for popular fictions of 
the kind, and curious relics, dug up from time to time, 
have contributed to strengthen them. At one time an 
earthen vessel was found containing Moorish coins and the 
skeleton of a cock, which, according to the opinion of 
shrewd inspectors, must have been buried alive. At 
another time, a vessel was dug up containing a great 
scarabaeus, or beetle, of baked clay, covered with Arabic 
inscriptions, which was pronounced a prodigious amulet of 
occult virtues. In this way the wits of the ragged brood 
who inhabit the Alhambra have been set wool-gathering, 
until there is not a hall, or tower, or vault of the old 
fortress that has not been made the scene of some marvel- 
ous tradition. 

I have already given brief notices of some related to me 
by the authentic Mateo Ximenes, and now subjoin one 
wrought out from various particulars gathered among the 
gossips of the fortress. 



THE ALHAMBRA. 117 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR^S LEGACY. 

Just witliin the fortress of the Alhambra, in front of the 
royal palace, is a broad, open esplanade, called the place or 
square of the cisterns (la plaza de los algibes), so called 
from being undermined by reservoirs of water, hidden 
from sight, and which have existed from the time of the 
Moors. At one corner of this esplanade is a Moorish well, 
cut through the living rock to a great depth, the water of 
which is cold as ice and clear as crystal. The wells made 
by the Moors are always in repute, for it is well known 
what pains they took to penetrate to the purest and sweet- 
est springs and fountains. The one v/e are speaking of 
is famous throughout Granada, insomuch that the water- 
carriers, some bearing great water- jars on their shoulders, 
others driving asses before them, laden with earthen 
vessels, are ascending and descending the steep, woody 
avenues of the Alhambra from early dawn until a late 
hour of the night. 

Fountains and wells, ever since the scriptural days, have 
been noted gossiping-places in hot climates, and at the 
well in question there is a kind of perpetual club kept up 
during the livelong day, by the invalids, old women, and 
other curious, do-nothing folk of the fortress, who sit here 
on the stone benches, under an awning spread over the 
well to shelter the toll-gatherer from the sun, and dawdle 
over the gossip of the fortress, and question any water- 
carrier that arrives about the news of the city, and make 
long comments on everything they hear and see. Not an 
hour of the day but loitering housewives and idle maid- 
servants may be seen, lingermg with pitcher on head or in 
hand, to hear the last of the endless tattle of these worthies. 

Among the water-carriers who once resorted to this well 
there was a sturdy, strong-backed, bandy-legged little 
fellow, named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for shortness. 
Being a water-carrier, he was a Gallego, or native of 
Gallicia, of course. Nature seems to have formed races of 
men as she has of animals, for different kinds of drudgery. 
In France the shoe-blacks are all Savoyards, the porters of 
hotels all Swiss, and in the days of hoops and hair-powder 
in England, no man could give the regular swing to a 



118 THE ALHAMBKA. 

sedan-chair but a bog-trotting Irishman. So in Spain the 
carriers of water and bearers of burdens are all sturdy little 
natives of Gallicia. No man says, '^ Get me a porter/' 
but, " Call a Gallego/' 

To return from this digression. Peregil the Gallego had 
begun business with merely a great earthen jar, which he 
carried upon his shoulder; by degrees he rose in the world, 
and was enabled to purchase an assistant of a correspond- 
ent class of animals, being a stout, shaggy-haired donkey. 
On each side of this his long-eared aid-de-camp, in a kind 
of panier, were slung his water-jars, covered with fig-leaves 
to protect them from the sun. There was not a more in- 
dustrious water-carrier in all Granada, nor one more merry 
withal. The streets rang with his cheerful voice as he 
trudged after his donkey, singing forth the usual summer 
note that resounds through the Spanish towns: " Quien 
quiere agua — agim mas fria que la nieve." Who wants 
water — water colder than snow — who wants water from the 
well of the Alhambra — cold as ice and clear as crystal ?'' 
When he served a customer with a sparkling glass, it was 
always with a pleasant word that caused a smile, and if, 
perchance, it was a comely dame, or dimpling damsel, it 
was always with a sly leer and a compliment to her beauty 
that was irresistible. Thus Peregil the Gallego was noted 
throughout all Granada for being one of the civilest, pleas- 
antest, and happiest of mortals. Yet it is not he who sings 
loudest and jokes most that has the lightest heart. Under 
all this air of merriment, honest Peregil had his cares and 
troubles. He had a large family of ragged children to sup- 
port, who were hungry and clamorous as a nest of young 
swallows, and beset him with their outcries for food when- 
ever he came home of an evening. He had a heljDmate, 
too, who was anything but a help to him. She had been a 
village beauty before marriage, noted for her skill in danc- 
ing the bolero and rattling the castanets, and she still re- 
tained her early propensities, sj^ending the hard earnings of 
honest Peregil in frippery, and laying the very donkey 
under requisition for j mike ting-parties into the country on 
Sundays and saints' days, and those innumerable holy-days 
which are rather more numerous in Spain than the days of 
the week. With all this she was a little of a slattern, 
something more of a lie-abed, and, above all, a gossip of 
the first water, neglecting house, household, and everyi^hing 



THE ALHAMBKA. 119 

else to loiter, slipshod, in the houses of her gossiping neigh- 
bors. 

He, however, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, 
accommodates the yoke of matrimony to the submissive 
neck. Peregil bore all the heavy dispensations of wife and 
children with as meek a spirit as his donkey bore the water- 
jars; and, however he might shake his ears in private, 
never ventured to question the household virtues of his 
slattern spouse. 

He loved his children, too, even as an owl loves its 
owlets, seeing in them his own image multiplied and per- 
petuated, for they were a sturdy, long-backed, bandy-legged 
little brood. The great pleasure of honest Peregil was, 
whenever he could afford himself a scanty holy-day and had 
a handful of maravedies to spare, to take the whole litter 
forth with him, some in his arms, some tugging at his 
skirts, and some trudging at his heels, and to treat them 
to a gambol among the orchards of the Vega, while his 
wife was dancing with her holy-day friends in the Angos- 
turas of the Darro. 

It was a late hour one summer night, and most of the 
water-carriers had desisted from their toils. The day had 
been uncommonly sultry; the night was one of those 
delicious moonlights, which tempt the inhabitants of those 
southern climes to indemnify themselves for the heat and 
inaction of the day by lingering in the open air and 
enjoying its tempered sweetness until after midnight. 
Customers for water were, therefore, still abroad. Peregil, 
like a considerate, painstaking little father, thought of his 
hungry children. '^ One more journey to the well,^^ said 
he to himself, " to earn a good Sunday^ s puchero for the 
little ones."" So saying, he trudged rapidly up the steep 
avenue of the Alhambra, singing as he went, and now and 
then bestowing a hearty thwack with a cudgel on the flanks 
of his donkey, either by way of cadence to the song, or 
refreshment to the animal ; for dry blows serve in lieu for 
provender in Spain for all beasts of burden. 

When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by every 
one except a solitary stranger in Moorish garb, seated on 
the stone bench in the moonlight. Peregil paused at first, 
and regarded him with surprise, not unmixed with awe, 
but the Moor feebly beckoned him to approach. 

" I am faint and ill,"' said he; " aid me to return to the 



120 THE ALHAMBEA. 

city, and I will pay thee double what thou couldst gain by 
thy jars of water.'" 

The honest heart of the little water-carrier was touched 
with compassion at the appeal of the stranger. " God for- 
bid/' said he, " that I should ask fee or reward for doing 
a common act of humanity.'" 

He accordingly helped the Moor on his donkey, and set 
off slowly for Granada, the poor Moslem being so weak 
that it was necessary to hold him on the animal to keep 
him from falling to the earth. 

When they entered the city, the water-carrier demanded 
whither he should conduct him. " Alas!" said the Moor, 
faintly, " I have neither home nor habitation. I am a 
stranger in the land. Suffer me to lay my head this night 
beneath thy roof, and thou shalt be amply repaid." 

Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled 
with an infidel guest, but he was too humane to refuse a 
night's shelter to a fellow-being in so forlorn a plight; so 
he conducted the Moor to his dwellmg. The children, who 
had sallied forth, oiDen-mouthed as usual, on hearing the 
tramp of the donkey, ran back with affright when they 
beheld the turbaned stranger, and hid themselves behind 
their mother. The latter stepped forth intrepidly, like a 
ruffling hen before her brood when a vagrant dog ap- 
proaches. 

" What infidel companion," cried she, '^ is this you have 
brought home at this late hour, to draw upon us the eyes 
of the Inquisition?" 

"Be quiet, wife," replied the Gallego; "here is a poor 
sick stranger, without friend or home; wouldst thou turn 
him forth to perish in the streets?" 

The wife would still have remonstrated, for, though she 
lived in a hovel, she was a f m-ious stickler for the credit of 
her house ; the little water-carrier, however, for once was 
stiff-necked, and refused to bend beneath the yoke. He 
assisted the poor Moslem to alight, and spread a mat and a 
sheep-skin for him on the ground, in the coolest part of 
the house, being the only kind of bed that his poverty 
afforded. 

In a little while the Moor was seized with violent convul- 
sions, which defied all the ministering skill of the simple 
water-carrier. The eye of the poor patient acknowledged 
his kindness. During an interval of his fits he called him 



THE ALHAMBRA. 121 

to his side, and addressing liim in a low voice: ^' My end/' 
said he, ''I fear is at hand. If I die, I bequeath you this 
box as a reward for your charity/' So saying, he opene<l 
his albornoz, or cloak, and showed a small box of sandal- 
wood straj^ped round his body. 

" God grant, my friend," replied the worthy little 
Gallego, " that you may live many years to enjoy your 
treasure, whatever it may be.'' 

The Moor shook his head; he laid his hand upon the 
box, and would have said something more concerning it, 
but his convulsions returned with increased violence, and 
in a little while he expired. 

The water-carrier's wife was now as one distracted. 
" This comes," said she, '' of your foolish good-nature, 
always running into scrapes to oblige others. What will 
become of us when this corpse is found in our house? We 
shall be sent to prison as murderers; and if we escape with 
our lives, shall be ruined by notaries and alguazils." 

Poor Peregii was in equal tribulation, and almost re- 
pented himself of having done a good deed. At length 
a thought struck him. " It is not yet day," said he. " I 
can convey the dead body out of the city and bury it in 
the sands on the banks of the Xenil. No one saw the 
Moor enter our dwelling, and no one will know an3rthing 
of his death." So said, so done. The wife aided him; 
they rolled the body of the unfortunate Moslem in the mat 
on which he had expired, laid it across the ass, and Mattias 
set out with it for the banks of the river. 

As ill-luck would have it, there lived opposite to the 
water-carrier a barber, named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of the 
most prying, tattling, mischief-making of his gossip tribe. 
He was a weasel -faced, spider-legged varlet, supple and 
insinuating; the famous barber of Seville could not surpass 
him for his universal knowledge of the affairs of others, 
and he had no more power of retention than a sieve. It 
T^as said that he slept but with but one eye at a time, and 
kept one ear uncovered, so that, even in his sleep, he 
might see and hear all that was going on. Certain it is, 
he was a sort of scandalous chronicle for the quidnuncs of 
Granada, and had more customers than all the rest of his 
fraternity. 

This meddlesome barber heard Peregii arrive at an un- 
usual hour of night, and the exclamations of his wife and 



122 THE ALHAMBRA. 

cliilclreii. His head was instantly popped out of a little 
window which served him as a lookout, and he saw his 
neighbor assist a man in a Moorish garb into his dwelling. 
This was so strange an occurrence that Pedrillo Pedrugo 
slept not a wink that night — every five minutes he was at 
his loop-hole, watching the lights that gleamed through the 
chinks of his neighbor's door, and before daylight he be- 
held Peregil sally forth with his donkey unusually laden. 

The inquisitive barber was in a fidget; he slipped on his 
clothes, and, stealing forth silently, followed the water- 
carrier at a distance, until he saw him dig a hole in the 
sandy bank of the Xenil, and bury something that had the 
appearance of a dead body. 

The barber hied him home and fidgeted about his shop, 
setting everything upside down, mitil sunrise. He then 
took a basin under his arm, and sallied forth to the house 
of his daily customer, the Alcalde. 

The Alcalde was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated 
him in a chair, threw a napkin round his neck, put a basin 
of hot water under his chin, and began to mollify his beard 
with his fingers. 

'' Strange doings,'' said Pedrugo, who played barber and 
newsmonger at the same time. '' Strange doings! Rob- 
bery, and murder, and burial, all in one night!" 

" Hey? How! what is it you say?" cried the Alcalde. 

" I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece of soap 
over the nose and mouth of the dignitary, for a Spanish 
barber disdains to employ a brush — " 1 say that Peregil the 
Gallego has robbed and murdered a Moorish Mussulman, 
and buried him this blessed night — maldita sea la noche — 
accursed be the night for the same!" 

"But how do you know all this?" demanded the Al- 
calde. 

''Be patient, senor, and you shall hear all about it," 
replied Pedrillo, taking him by the nose and sliding a 
razor over his cheek. He then recounted all that he had 
seen, going through both operations at the same time, 
shaving his beard, washing his chin, and wipmg him dry 
with a du'ty napkin, while he was robbing, mui'dering, and 
burying the Moslem. 

Now, it so happened that this Alcalde was one of the 
most overbearing and at the same time most griping and 
corrupt curmudgeons in all Granada. It could not be de- 



THE ALHAMBRA. 133 

nied, however, that he set a high value upon justice, for he 
sold it at its weight in gold. He presumed the case in 
point to be one of murder and robbery; doubtless there 
must be rich spoil; how was it to be secured into the legiti- 
mate hands of the law? for as to merely entrapping the 
delinquent — that would be feeding the gallows; but entrap- 
ping the booty — that would be enriching the judge; and 
such, according to his creed, was the great end of justice. 
So thinking, he summoned to his presence his trustiest 
alguazil, a gaunt, hungry-looking varlet, clad, according 
to the custom of his order, in the ancient Spanish garb — a 
broad black beaver, turned up at the sides; a quaint ruff, 
a small black cloak dangling from his shoulders; rusty- 
black underclothes that set off his spare, wiry form; while 
in his hand he bore a slender white wand, the dreaded 
insignia of his office. Such was the legal blood-hound of 
the ancient Spanish breed that he put upon the track of 
the unlucky water-carrier; and such was his speed and cer- 
tainty that he was upon the haunches of poor Peregil before 
he had returned to his dwelling, and brought both him and 
his donkey before the dispenser of justice. 

The Alcalde bent upon him one of his most terrific 
frowns. " Hark ye, culprit,^' roared he, in a voice that 
made the knees of the little Gallego smite together. 
'' Hark ye, culprit! there is no need of denying thy guilt; 
everything is known to me. A gallows is the proper re- 
ward for the crime thou hast committed, but I am merci- 
ful, and readily listen to reason. The man that has been 
murdered in thy house was a Moor, an infidel, the enemy 
of our faith. It was doubtless in a fit of religious zeal that 
thou hast slain him. I will be indulgent, therefore; ren- 
der up the property of which thou hast robbed him, and 
we will hush the matter up.^' 

Th poor water-carrier called upon all the sauits to wit- 
ness his innocence; alas! not one of them appeared, and if 
there had, the Alcalde would have disbelieved the whole 
calendar. The water-carrier related the whole story of the 
dying Moor with the straightforward simplicity of truth, 
but it was all in vain. '' Wilt thou persist in saying,^' 
demanded the judge, '' that this Moslem had neither gold 
nor jewels, which were the object of thy cupidity?'' 

" As I hope to be saved, your worship,'' replied the 
water-carrier, " he had nothing but a small box of sandal- 



124 THE ALHAMBRA. 

wood, which he bequeathed to me in reward of my serv- 
ices/^ 

^'A box of sandal-wood! a box of sandal-wood !'' ex- 
claimed the Alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea of 
precious jewels, '' and where is this box? where have you 
concealed it?^' 

"An it iDlease your grace,'' replied the water-carrier, 
" it is in one of the paniers of my mule, and heartily at the 
service of your worship.'' 

He had hardly spoken the words, when the keen alguazil 
darted off and reappeared in an instant with the mysterious 
box of sandal-wood. The Alcalde opened it with an eager 
and trembling hand; all pressed forward to gaze upon the 
treasui-es it was expected to contain; when, to their disap- 
pointment, nothing appeared within but a parchment 
scroll covered with Arabic characters and an end of a 
waxen taper. 

When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction of 
a prisoner, justice, even in Spain, is apt to be impartial. 
The Alcalde, having recovered from his disappointment 
and found there was really no booty in the case, now 
listened dispassionately to the explanation of the water- 
carrier, which was corroborated by the testimony of his 
wife. Being convinced, therefore, of his mnocence, he dis- 
charged him from arrest; nay, more, he j^ermitted him to 
carry off the Moor's legacy, the box of sandal-wood and its 
contents, as the well-merited reward of his humanity; but 
he retained his donkey in payment of cost and charges. 

Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once more 
to the necessity of being his own water-carrier, and trudg- 
ing up to the well of the Alhambra with a great earthen 
jar upon his shoulder. As he toiled up the hill in the heat 
of a summer noon, his usual good-humor forsook him. 
" Dog of an Alcalde I" would he cry, " to rob a poor man 
of the means of his subsistence— of \he best friend he had 
in the world!" And then, at the remembrance of the be- 
loved companion of his labors, all the kindness of his 
nature would break forth. " Ah, donkey of my heart!" 
would he exclaim, resting his burden on a stone, and wiping 
the sweat from his brow, " ah, donkey of my heart! I war- 
rant me thou thinkest of thy old master; I Avarrant me 
thou missest the water- jars — poor beast!" 

To add to his afflictions^ his wife received him, on his re- 



THE ALHAMBRA. 125 

turn home, with whimperings and repinings; she had 
clearly the vantage-gromid of him, having warned him not 
to commit the egregious act of hospitality that had brought 
on him all these misfortunes, and, like a knowing woman, 
she took every occasion to throw her superior sagacity in 
his teeth. If ever her children lacked food or needed a 
new garment, she would answer, with a sneer, *' Go to 
your father; he^s heir to King Ohico, of the Alhambra. 
Ask him to help you out of the Moor^s strong-box/^ 

Was ever poor mortal more somidly punished for having 
done a good action? The milucky Peregil was grieved in 
flesh and spirit, but still he bore meekly with the railings 
of his spouse. At length, one evening, when, after a hot 
day's toil, she taunted him in the usual manner, he lost all 
patience. He did not venture to retort upon her, but his 
eye rested upon the box of sandal-wood, which lay on a 
shelf with lid half open, as if laughing in mockery of his 
vexation. Seizing it up, he dashed it with indignation on 
the floor. " Unlucky was the day that I ever set eyes on 
thee,'' he cried, ^^ or sheltered thy master beneath my 
roof!" 

As the box struck the floor the lid flew wide open and 
the parchment scroll rolled forth. Peregil sat regarding 
the scroll for some time in moody silence. At length, 
rallying his ideas, '^ Who knows," thought he, "but this 
writing may be of some importance, as the Moor seems to 
have guarded it with such care." Picking it up, therefore, 
he put it in his bosom, and the next morning, as he was 
crying water through the streets, he stopped at the shop of 
a Moor, a native of Tangiers, who sold trinkets and per- 
fumery in the Zacatin, and asked him to explain the con- 
tents. 

The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his 
beard and smiled. "This manuscript," said he, "is a 
form of incantation for the recovery of hidden treasure 
that is under the power of enchantment. It is said to have 
such virtue that the strongest bolts and bars, nay, the 
adamantine rock itself, will yield before it." 

"Bah!" cried the little Gallego, "what is all that to 
me? I am no enchanter, and know nothing of buried 
treasure." So saying, he shouldered his water-jar, left the 
scroll in the hands of the Moor, and trudged forward on his 
daily rounds. 



126 THE ALHAMBRA. 

That evening, however, as he rested himself about 
twihght at the well of the Alhambra, he found a number 
of gossips assembled at the place,, and their conversation, as 
is not unusual at that shadowy hour, turned upon old tales 
and traditions of a supernatural natui-e. Being all poor 
as rats, they dwelt with peculiar fondness upon the popular 
theme of enchanted riches left by the Moors in various 
parts of the Alhambra. Above all, they concurred in the 
belief that there were great treasures buried deep in the 
earth under the Tower of the Seven Floors. 

These stories made an unusual impression on the mind 
of honest Peregil, and they sunk deeper and deeper into 
his thoughts as he returned alone down the darkling 
avenues. '^ If, after all, there should be treasure hid 
beneath that tower — and if the scroll I left with the Moor 
should enable me to get at it!'' In the sudden ecstasy of 
the thought, he had well-nigh let fall his water-jar. 

That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely 
get a wink of sleej) for the thoughts that were bewildering 
his brain. In the morning, bright and early, he repaired 
to the shop of the Moor, and told him all that was passing 
in his mind. '' You can read Arabic,'' said he; " suppose 
we go together to the tower and try the effect of the charm ; 
if it fails, we are no worse off than before; but if it suc- 
ceeds, we will share equally all the treasure we may dis- 
cover." 

" Hold!" replied the Moslem; " this writing is not 
sufficient of itself; it must be read at midnight, by the 
light of a taper singularly compounded and prepared, the 
ingredients of which are not within my reach. Without 
such taj)er the scroll is of no avail." 

" Say no more!" cried the little Gallego. " I have such 
a taper at hand, and will bring it here in a moment." So 
saying, he hastened home, and soon returned with the end 
of a 3'ellow wax-taper that he had found in the box of 
sandal-wood. 

The Moor felt it, and smelled to it. " Here are rare and 
costly perfumes," said he, " combined with this yellow 
wax. This is the kind of taper specified in the scroll. 
While this burns, the strongest walls and most secret 
caverns will remain open; woe to him, however, who 
lingers within until it be extinguished. He will remain 
enchanted with the treasure, " 



THE ALHAMBEA. 127 

It was now agreed between them to try the charm that 
very night. At a late hour, therefore, when nothing was 
stirring but bats and owls, they ascended the woody hill of 
the AUiambra, and approached that awful tower shrouded 
by trees and rendered formidable by so many traditionary 
tales. 

By the light of a lantern, they groped their way through 
bushes, and over fallen stones, to the door of a vault be- 
neath the tower. With fear and trembling they descended 
a flight of steps cut into the rock. It led to an empty 
chamber, damp and drear, from which another flight of 
steps led to a deeper vault. In this way they descended 
four several flights, leading into as many vaults, one below 
the other, but the floor of the fourth was solid, and 
though, according to tradition, there remained three vaults 
still below, it was said to be impossible to penetrate fur- 
ther, the residue being shut up by strong enchantment. 
The air of this vault was damp and chilly, and had an 
earthy smell, and the light scarce cast forth any rays. 
They paused here for a time in breathless suspense, until 
they faintly heard the clock of the watch-tower strike mid- 
night; upon this they lighted the waxen taper, which 
diffused an odor of myrrh, and frankincense, and storax. 

The Moor began [to read m a hurried voice. He had 
scarce finished, when there was a noise as of subterraneous 
thunder. The earth shook, and the floor, yawning open, 
disclosed a flight of steps. Trembling with awe, they de- 
scended, and by the light of the lantern found themselves 
in another vault covered with Arabic inscriptions. In the 
center stood a great chest, secured with seven bands of 
steel, at each end of which sat an enchanted Moor in 
armor, but motionless as a statue, being controlled by the 
power of the incantation. Before the chest were several 
jars filled with gold and silver and precious stones. In the 
lai'gest of these they thrust their arms up to the elbow, 
and at every dip hauled forth handfuls of broad yellow 
pieces of Moorish gold, or bracelets and ornaments of the 
same precious metal, while occasionally a necklace of 
Oriental pearl would stick to their fingers. Still they 
trembled and breathed short while cramming their pockets 
with the spoils, and cast many a fearful glance at the two 
enchanted Moors, who sat, grim and motionless, glaring 
upon them with unwinking eyes. At length, struck with 



128 THE ALHAMBKA. 

a sudden panic at some fancied noise, they both rushed up 
the staircase, tumbled over each other into the upper apart- 
ment, overturned and extinguished the waxen taper, and 
the pavement a^ain closed with a thundering sound. 

Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they had 
groped their way out of the tower and beheld the stars 
shining through the trees. Then seating themselves upon 
the grass, they divided the spoil, determining to content 
themselves for the present with this mere skimming of the 
jars, but to return on some future night and drain them to 
the bottom. To make sure of each other^s good faith, 
also, they divided the talismans between them, one retain- 
ing the scroll and the other the taper; this done, they set 
off with light hearts and well-lined pockets for Granada. 

As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd 
Moor whispered a word of counsel in the ear of the simple 
little water-carrier. 

" Friend Peregil,^^ said he, " all this affau' must be kept 
a profound secret until we have secured the treasure and 
conveyed it out of harm^s way. If a whisper of it gets to 
the ear of the Alcalde, we are undone !^^ 

^' Certainly,'' replied the Gallego; " nothing can be 
more true.'' 

*' Friend Peregil," said the Moor, " you are a discreet 
man, and I make no doubt can keep a secret; but — you 
have a wife — " 

" She shall not know a word of it," replied the little 
water-carrier, sturdily. 

" Enough," said the Moor; " I depend upon thy discre- 
tion and thy promise." 

Never was promise more positive and sincere; but, alas! 
what man can keep a secret from his wife? Oei-tainly not 
such a one as Peregil, the water-carrier, who was one of 
the most loving and tractable of husbands. On his return 
home, he found his wife moping in a corner . 

" Mighty well," cried she, as he entered, " you've come 
at last, after rambling about until this hour of the night. 
I wonder you have not brought home another Moor as a 
house-mate." Then, bursting into tears, she began to 
wring her hands and smite her breast. " Unliappy woman 
that I am!" exclaimed she, "what will become of me? 
My house strij^ped and plundered by lawyers and alguazils; 
my husband a do-no-good that no longer brings home bread 



THE ALHAMBRA. 139 

for his family, but goes rambling about day and night with 
infidel Moors. Oh, my children! my children! what will 
become of us? we shall all have to beg in the streets/' 

Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his 
spouse, that he could not help whimpering also. His 
heart was as full as his pocket, and not to be restrained. 
Thrusting his hand into the latter, he hauled forth three 
or four broad gold pieces and slipped them into her bosom. 
The poor woman stared with astonishment, and could not 
understand the meaning of this golden shower. Before 
she could recover her surprise, the little Gallego drew forth 
a chain of gold and dangled it before her, capermg with 
exultation, his mouth distended from ear to ear. 

'' Holy Virgin protect us!'' exclaimed the wife. " What 
hast thoa been doing, Peregil? Surely thou hast not been 
committing murder and robbery?'' 

The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman 
than it became a certainty with her. She saw a prison and 
a gallows m the distance, and a little bandy-legged Gallego 
dangling pendant from it; and, overcome by the hori\)rs 
conjured up by her imagination, fell into violent hysterics. 

What could the poor man do? He had no other means 
of pacifving his wife and dispelling the phantoms of her 
fancy than by relating the whole story of his good fortune. 
This, however, he did not do until he had exacted from her 
the most solemn promise to keep it a profomid secret from 
every livmg being. 

To describe her joy would be impossible. She flmig her 
arms round the neck of her husband, and almost strangled 
him with her caresses. " Now, wife," exclaimed the little 
man, with honest exultation, " what say you now to the 
Moor's legacy? Henceforth never abuse me for helping a 
fellow-creature in distress." 

The honest Gallego retired to his sheep-skin mat, and 
slept as soundly as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife. 
She emptied the whole contents of his pockets upon the 
mat, and sat all night counting gold pieces of Arabic coin, 
trying on necklaces and ear-rings, and fancying the figure 
she should one day make when permitted to enjoy her 
riches. 

On the following morning the honest Gallego took a 
broad golden coin, and repaired with it to a jeweler's shop 
in the Zacatin to offer it for sale, pretending to have found 

5 



130 THE ALHAMEKA. 

it among the ruiiis of the Alhambra. The jeweler saw 
that it had an Arabic inscription, and was of the purest 
gold; he offered, however, but a third of its value, with 
which the water-carrier was perfectly content. Peregil 
now bought new clothes for his little flock, and all kinds of 
toys, together with ample provisions for a hearty meal, 
and returning lo his dwelling, set all his children dancing 
around him, while he capered in the midst, the happiest of 
fathers. 

The wife of the water-carrier kept her promise of secrecy 
with surprising strictness. For a whole day and a half she 
went about with a look of mystery and a heart swelling 
almost to bursting, yet she held her peace, though sur- 
roimded by her gossips. It is true she could not help giv- 
ing herself a few airs, apologized for her ragged dress, and 
talked of ordermg a new busquina all trimmed with gold 
lace, and bugles, and a new lace mantilla. She threw 
out hints of her husband's intention of leaving off his trade 
of water-carrying, as it did not altogether agree with his 
health. In fact, she thought they should all retire to the 
coimtry for the summer, that the children might have the 
benefit of the mountain air, for there was no living in the 
city in this sultry season. 

The neighbors stared at one another, and thought the 
poor woman had lost her wits, and her airs and graces and 
elegant pretensions were the theme of universal scoffing 
and merriment among her friends the moment her back 
was turned. 

If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indemnified 
herself at home, and, putting a string of rich Oriental 
pearls round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms, an 
aigrette of diamonds on her head, sailed backward and for- 
ward in her slattern rags about the room, now and then 
stopping to admire herself in a piece of broken mirror. 
Nay, in the impulse of her simple vanity, she could not 
resist on one occasion showing herself at the window to en- 
joy the effect of her finery on the passers-by. 

As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the med- 
dlesome barber, was at this moment sitting idly in his shop 
on the oi3posite side of the street, when his ever- watchful 
eye caught the sparkle of a diamond. In an instant he 
was at his loop-hole, recon]U)itcriiig the slattern spouse of 
the water-carrier decorated with the splendor of an Eastern 



THE ALHAMBRA. 131 

bride. No sooner had he taken an accurate inventory of 
her ornaments, than he posted off with all speed to the 
Alcalde. In a little while the hungry alguazil was again 
on the scent, and before the day was over the unfortunate 
Peregil was again dragged into the presence of the judge. 

^' How is this, villain ?^^ cried the Alcalde, in a furious 
voice. " You told me that the infidel who died in your 
house left nothing behind but an empty coffer, and now I 
hear of your wife, flaunting in her rags, decked out with 
pearls and diamonds. Wretch that thou art! prepare to 
render up the spoils of thy miserable victim, and to swing 
on the gallows that is already tired of waiting for thee!'^ 

The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made a 
full relation of the marvelous manner in which he had 
gained his wealth. The Alcalde, the alguazil, and the in- 
quisitive barber listened with greedy ears to this Arabian 
tale of enchanted treasure. The alguazil w^as dispatched to 
bring the Moor who had assisted in the incantation. The 
Moslem entered, half frightened out of his wits at finding 
himself in the hands of the harpies of the law. When he 
beheld the water-carrier standing with sheepish look and 
downcast comitenance, he comprehended the whole matter. 
*' Miserable animal,^^ said he, as».ne passed near him, " did 
I not warn thee against babbling to thy wife?^' 

The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his 
colleague; but the Alcalde affected to be slow of belief, and 
threw out menaces of imprisonment and rigorous investiga- 
tion. 

" Softly, good Senor Alcalde, ^^ said the Mussulman, who 
by this time had recovered his usual shrewdness and self- 
possession. " Let us not mar fortmie^s favors in the 
scramble for them. Nobody knows anything of this 
matter but ourselves; let us keep the secret. There is 
w^ealth enough in the cave to enrich us all. Promise a fair 
division, and all shall be produced; refuse, and the cave 
shall remain forever closed.'^ 

The Alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The 
latter was an old fox in his profession. " Promise any- 
thing,^' said he, " until you get possession of the treasure. 
You may then seize upon the whole, and if he and his ac- 
complice dare to murmur, threaten them with the fagot 
and the stake as infidels and sorcerers. '^ 

The Alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing his brow 



132 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and tm-ning to the Moor: " This is a strange story/' said 
he, '' and may be true, but I must have ocular proof of it. 
This very night you must repeat the incantation in my 
presence. If there be really such treasure, we will share it 
amicably between us, and say nothing further of the mat- 
ter; if ye have deceived me, expect no mercy at my hands. 
In the meantime, you must remain in custody./^ 

The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to 
these conditions, satisfied that the event would prove the 
truth of their words. 

Toward midnight the Alcalde sallied forth secretly, at- 
tended by the alguazil and the meddlesome barber, all 
strongly armed. They conducted the Moor and the water- 
carrier as prisoners, and were provided with the stout 
donkey of the latter, to bear oft' the expected treasure. 
They arrived at the tower without being observed, and 
tying the donkey to a fig-tree, descended into the fourth 
vault of the tower. 

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted, 
and the Moor read the form of incantation. The earth 
trembled as before, and the pavement opened with a thun- 
dering sound, disclosing the narrow flight of steps. ^ The 
Alcalde, the alguazil, and the barber were struck aghast, 
and could not summon courage to descend. The Moor and 
the water-carrier entered the lower vault and found the two 
Moors seated, as before, silent and motionless. They re- 
moved two of the great jars filled with golden coin and 
precious stones. The water-carrier bore them wp one by 
one upon his shoulders, but though a strong-backed little 
man, and accustomed to carry burdens, he staggered be- 
neath their weight, and found, when slinig on each side of 
his donkey, they were as much as the animal could bear. 

" Let us be content for the present, '^ said the Moor; 
' ' here is as much treasure as we can carry ofP without 
being perceived, and enough to make us all wealthy to our 
hearts' desire."' 

" Is there more treasure remaining behind?" demanded 
the Alcalde. 

" The greatest prize of all," said the Moor; " a huge 
coffer, bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls 
and precious stones." 

" Let us have up the coffer, by all means!" cried the 
grasping Alcalde. 



THE ALHAMBEA. 



133 



*' I will descend for no more/' said the Moor, doggedly. 
'' Enough is enough for a reasonable man; more is super- 
fluous.'' . ,,.-,,,. 

"And I/' said the water-carrier, "will brmg up no 
further burden to break the back of my poor donkey." 

Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally vam, 
the Alcaide turned to his two adherents. " Aid me," said 
he, " to bring up the coffer, and its contents shall be 
divided between us." So saying, he descended the steps, 
followed, with trembling reluctance, by the alguazil and 

the barber. ^ ^ _ < i ^ xt, 

No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed than 
he extmguished the yellow taper, the pavement closed with 
its usual crash, and the three worthies remained buried m 
its womb. ^. , , . ^ 

He then hastened up the different flights of steps, nor 
stopped until in the open air. The little water-carrier 
followed him as fast as his short legs would permit. 

" What hast thou done?" cried Peregil, as soon as he 
could recover his breath. " The Alcalde and the other 
two are shut up in the vault." 

" It is the will of Allah!" said the Moor, devoutly. 

" And will you not release them?" demanded the Gal- 

^^"*Allah forbid!" replied the Moor, smoothing his beard. 
" It is written in the book of fate that they shall remain 
enchanted until some future adventurer shall come to break 
the charm. The will of God be done!" So saying, he 
hurled the end of the waxen taper far among the gloomy 
thickets of the glen. 

There was now no remedy, so the Moor and the water- 
carrier proceeded with the richly laden donkey toward the 
city; nor could honest Peregil refrain from hugging and 
kissing his long-eared fellow-laborer, thus restored to him 
from the clutches of the law; and, m fact, it is doubttul 
which gave the simple-hearted little man most ]oy at the 
moment, the gaining of the treasure or the recovery ot the 

donkey. .-,-,■ -i 

The two partners in good luck divided their spoil amica- 
bly and fairly, excepting that the Moor, who had a little 
taste for trinketry, made out to get into his heap the most 
of the pearls and precious stones and other baubles, but 
then, he always gave the water-carrier in lieu magnificent 



134 THE ALHAMBEA. 

jewels of massy gold four times the size, with which tl^e 
latter was heartily content. They took care not to linger 
within reach of accidents, hut made off to enjoy their 
wealth undisturhed in other coimtries. The Moor returned 
into Africa, to his native city of Tetuan, and the Gallego, 
with his wife, his children, and his donkey, made the best 
of his way to Portugal. Here, under the admonition and 
tuition of his wife, he became a personage of some conse- 
quence, for she made the little man array his long body 
and short legs in doublet and hose, with a feather in his hat 
and a sword by his side; and, laying aside the familiar ap- 
pellation of Perogil, assume the more sonorous title of Don 
Pedro Gil. His progeny grew up a thrivmg and merry- 
hearted, though short and bandy-legged generation; while 
the Senora Gil, befringed, belaced, and betasseled from 
her head to her heels, with glittering rings on every finger, 
became a model of slattern fashion and finery. 

As to the Alcalde and his adjuncts, they remained shut 
up imder the great Tower of the Seven Floors, and there 
they remain spell-bound at the present day. Whenever 
there shall be a lack in Spain of pimping barbers, sharking 
alguazils, and corrupt Alcaldes, they may be sought after; 
but if they have to wait until such time for their deliver- 
ance, there is danger of their enchantment enduring until 
doomsday. 



VISITOES TO THE ALHAMBEA. 

It is now nearly three months since I took up my abode 
in the Alhambra, during which time the progress of the 
season has wrought many changes. When I first arrived, 
everything was in the freshness of May; the foliage of the 
trees was still tender and transparent; the pomegranate 
had not yet shed its brilliant crimson blossoms; the 
orchards of the Xenil and the Darro were in full bloom; 
the rocks were hung with wild flowers, and Granada 
seemed completely surrounded by a wilderness of roses, 
among which innumerable nightingales sung, not merely 
in the night, but all day long. 

The advance of summer has withered the rose and 
silenced the nightingale, and the distant country begins to 
look parched and sunburned; though a perennial verdure 



THE ALHAMBRA. 135 

reigns immediately round the city, and in the deep, narrow 
valleys at the foot of the snow-capped mountains. 

The Alhanibra possesses retreats graduated to the heat 
of the weather, among which the most peculiar is the 
almost subterranean apartment of the baths. This still 
retains its ancient Oriental character, though stamped with 
the touching traces of decline. At the entrance, opening 
into a small court formerly adorned with flowers, is a hall, 
moderate in size, but light and graceful in architecture. 
It is overlooked by a small gallery supported by marble 
pillars and moresco arches. An alabaster fountain in the 
center of the pavement still throws up a jet of water to 
cool the place. On each side are deep alcoves with raised 
platforms, where the bathers after their ablutions reclined 
on luxurious cushions, soothed to voluptuous repose by the 
fragrance of the perfumed air and the notes of soft music 
from the gallery. Beyond this hall are the interior cham- 
bers, still more private and retired, where no light is admit- 
ted but through small apertures m the vaulted ceilings. 
Here was the sanctum sanctorum of female privacy, where 
the beauties of the harem indulged in the luxury of the 
baths. A soft, mysterious light reigns through the place, 
the broken baths are still there, and traces of ancient 
elegance. 

The prevailing silence and obscurity have made this a 
favorite resort of bats, who nestle during the day in the 
dark nooks and corners, and, on being disturbed, flit mys- 
teriously about the twilight chambers, heightening in an 
indescribable degree their air of desertion and decay. 

In this cool and elegant though dilapidated retreat^, 
which has the freshness and seclusion of a grotto, I have of 
late passed the sultry hours of the day; emerging toward 
sunset, and bathing, or rather swimming, at night in the 
great reservoir of the main court. In this way I have been 
enabled in a measure to counteract the relaxing and ener- 
vating influence of the climate. 

My dream of absolute sovereignty, however, is at an end. 
I was roused from it lately by the report of fire-arms, which 
reverberated among the towers, as if the castle had been 
taken by surprise. On sallying forth, I found an old cava- 
lier with a number of domestics in possession of the Hall 
of Embassadors. He was an ancient count, who had come 
up from his palace in Granada to pass a short time in the 



136 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Alhambra for tlie benefit of purer air, and who, being a 
veteran and inveterate sportsman, was endeavoring to get 
an appetite for his breakfast by shooting at swallows from 
the balconies. It was a harmless amusement, for though, 
by the alertness of his attendants in loading his pieces, he 
was enabled to keej) up a brisk fire, I could not accuse him 
of the death of a single swallow. Nay, the birds them- 
selves seemed to enjoy the sport, and to deride his want of 
skill, skimming in circles close to the balconies, and twit- 
tering as they darted by. 

The arrival of this old gentleman has in some measure 
changed the aspect of affairs, but has likewise afforded 
matter for agreeable speculation. We have tacitly shared 
the empire between us, like the last kings of Granada, ex- 
cepting that we maintain a most amicable alliance. He 
reigns absolute over the Court of Lions and its adjacent 
halls, while I maintain peaceful possession of the region of 
the baths and the little garden of Lindaraxa. We take our 
meals together under the arcades of the court, where the 
fountains cool the air, and bubbling rills run along the 
channels of the marble pavement. 

In the evening, a domestic circle gathers about the 
worthy old cavalier. The countess comes up from the 
city, with a favorite daughter about sixteen years of age. 
Then there are the ofhcial dependents of the count, his 
chaplain, his lawyer, his secretary, his steward, and other 
officers and agents of his extensive possessions. Thus he 
holds a kind of domestic court, where every person seeks to 
contribute to his amusement, without sacrificing his own 
pleasure or self-respect. In fact, whatever may be said of 
Spanish pride, it certainly does not enter into social or 
domestic life. Among no people are the relations between 
kindred more cordial, or between superior and dependent 
more frank and genial: in these respects there still remains, 
in the provincial life of Spain, much of the vaunted sim- 
plicity of the olden times. 

The most mteresting member of this family group, how- 
ever, is the daughter of the count, the charming though 
almost infantile little Carmen. Her form has not yet at- 
tained its maturity, but has already the exquisite symmetry 
and pliant grace so prevalent in this coimtry. Her blue 
eyes, fair complexion, and light hair are unusual in Anda- 



THE ALHAMBRA. 137 

lusia, and give a mildness and gentleness to her demeanor, 
in contrast to the usual fire of Spanish beauty, but in per- 
fect unison with the guileless and confiding innocence of 
her manners. She has, however, all the innate aptness 
and versatility of her fascinatmg countrywomen, and 
sings, dances, and plays the guitar and other instruments 
to admiration. A few days after taking up his residence 
m the Alhambra, the comit gave a domestic fete on his 
saint's day, assembling round him the members of his 
family and household, while several old servants came 
from his distant possessions to pay their reverence to him, 
and partake of the good cheer. 

This patriarchal spirit, which characterized the Spanish 
nobility in the days of their opulence, has declined wdth 
their fortunes; but some who, like the count, still retain 
their ancient family possessions, keep up a little of the 
ancient system, and have their estates overrun and al- 
most eaten up by generations of idle retainers. Accord- 
ing to this magnificent old Spanish system, in which the 
national pride and generosity bore equal parts, a super- 
annuated servant was never turned off, but became a 
charge for the rest of his days; nay, his children, and his 
children's children, and often their relations, to the right 
and left, became gradually entailed upon the family. 
Hence the huge palaces of the Spanish nobility, which 
have such an air of empty ostentation from the greatness 
of their size compared with the mediocrity and scantiness 
of their furniture, were absolutely required in the golden 
days of Spain by the patriarchal habits of their possessors. 
They were little better than vast barracks for the heredi- 
tary generations of hangers-on that battened at the expense 
of a Spanish noble. The worthy count, who has estates in 
various parts of the kingdom, assures me that some of 
them barely feed the hordes of dependents nestled upon 
them, who consider themselves entitled to be maintamed 
upon the place, rent free, because their forefathers have 
been so for generations. 

The domestic fete of the count broke in upon the usual 
still life of the Alhambra. Music and laughter resounded 
through its late silent halls; there were groups of the 
guests amusing themselves about the galleries and gardens, 
and officious servants from town hurrying through the 
courts, bearing viands to the ancient kitchen, which was 



138 THE ALHAMBEA. 

again alive with the tread of cooks and sculhons^ and 
blazed with unwonted £res. 

The feast, for a Spanish set dinner is literally a feast, 
was laid in the beautiful moresco hall called " La Salle de 
las dos Hermanas ^' (the Saloon of the Two Sisters); the 
table groaned with abundance, and a j05^ous conviviality 
prevailed round the board; for though the Spaniards are 
generally an abstemious j)eople, they are complete revelers 
at a banquet. 

For my own part, there was something peculiarly inter- 
esting in thus sitting at a feast, in the royal halls of the 
Alhambra, given by the representative of one of its most 
renowned conquerors; for the venerable count, though un- 
war-like himself, is the lineal descendant and representative 
of the Great Captain, the illustrious Gonsalvo of Cor- 
dova, whose sword he guards in the archives of his palace 
at Granada. 

The banquet ended, the company adjourned to the Hall 
of Embassadors. Here every one contributed to the 
general amusement by exerting some peculiar talent — sing- 
ing, improvising, telling wonderful tales, or dancing to 
that all-pervading talisman of Spanish pleasure, the guitar. 

The life and charm of the whole assemblage, however, 
was the gifted little Carmen. She took her part in two or 
three scenes from Si^anish comedies, exhibiting a charming 
dramatic talent ; she gave imitations of the popular Italian 
singers, with singular and w^himsical felicity, and a rare 
quality of voice; she imitated the dialects, dances, and 
ballads of the gypsies and the neighboring peasantry, but 
did everything with a facility, a neatness, a grace, and an 
all-pervading prettiness that were perfectly fascinating. 
The great charm of her performances, however, was their 
being free from all pretension or ambition of display. She 
seemed unconscious of the extent of her own talents, and, 
in fact, is accustomed only to exert them casually, like a 
child, for the amusement of the domestic circle. Her ob- 
servation and tact must be remarkably quick, for her life 
is passed in the bosom of her family, and she can only have 
had casual and transient glan.ces at the various characters 
and traits, brought out impromptu in moments of domestic 
hilarity, like the one in question. It is pleasing to see the 
fondness and admiration with wliicli every one of the house- 
hold regards her; she is never spoken of, even by the 



THE ALHAMBEA. 139 

domestics, by any other appellation than that of La Nina, 
" the child/" an appellation which thus applied has some- 
thing peculiarly kind and endearing in the Spanish lan- 
guage. 

Never shall I think of the Alhambra without remember- 
ing the lovely little Carmen sporting hi happy and innocent 
girlhood m its marble halls, dancing to the sound of the 
Moorish castanets, or mingling the silver warbling of her 
voice with the music of the fountains. 

On this festive occasion several curious and amusing 
legends and traditions were told, many of which have 
escaped my memory; but of those that most struck me, I 
will endeavor to shape forth some entertainment for the 
reader. 



LEGEND OF PEINOE AHMED AL KAMEL; 

OR, 
THE PILGEIM OF LOVE. 

Theee was once a Moorish king of Granada who had 
but one son, whom he named Ahmed, to which his court- 
iers added the surname of al Kamel, or the Perfect, from 
the indubitable signs of super-excellence which they per- 
ceived in him in his very infancy. The astrologers coun- 
tenanced them in their foresight, predictmg everything in 
his favor that could make a perfect prince and a prosperous 
sovereign. One cloud only rested upon his destiny, and 
even that was of a roseate hue. He would be of an amor- 
ous temperament, and run great perils from the tender 
passion. If, however, he could be kept from the allure- 
ments of love until of mature age, these dangers would be 
averted, and his life thereafter be one uninterrupted course 
of felicity. 

To prevent all danger of the kind, the king wisely deter- 
mined to rear the prince in a seclusion, where he should 
never see a female face nor hear even the name of love. 
For this purpose he built a beautiful palace on the brow of 
a hill above the Alhambra, in the midst of delightful gar- 
dens, but surrounded by lofty walls; being, in fact, the 
same palace known at the present day by the name of the 
Generaliffe. In this palace the youthful jJi'ince was shut 
up and intrusted to the guardianship and iustruction of 



140 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Ebon Bonabbon^ one of the wisest and driest of Arabian 
sages, who had passed the gi*eater part of his life in Egypt, 
studying hieroglyphics and making researches among the 
tombs and pyramids, and who saw more charms in an 
Egyptian mummy than in the most tempting of living 
beauties. The sage was ordered to instruct the prince in 
all kinds of knowledge but one — he is to be kept utterly 
ignorant of loye. ' ' Use every precaution for the purpose 
you may think j^roper/'' said the king, " but remember, oh, 
Ebon Bonabbon, if my son learns aught of that forbidden 
knowledge, while mider j'Oui- care, your head shall answer 
for it/' A withered smile came over the dry visage of the 
wise Bonabbon at the menace. " Let your majesty's heart 
be as easy about your son as mine is about my head. Am 
I a man likely to give lessons in the idle passion.'^'' 

Under the vigilant care of the philosopher, the prince 
grew up m the seclusion of the palace and its gardens. He 
had black slaves to attend upon him — hideous mutes, who 
knew nothing of love, or, if they did, had not words to 
communicate it. His mental endowments were the pecul- 
iar care of Ebon Bonabbon, who sought to initiate him into 
the abstruse lore of Egypt; but in this the prince made 
little progress, and it was soon evident that he had no turn 
for philosophy. 

He was, however, amazingly ductile for a youthful 
prince, ready to follow any advice, and always guided by 
the last counselor. He suppressed his yawns, and listened 
patiently to the long and learned discourses of Ebon Bonab- 
bon, from which he imbibed a smattering of various kinds 
of knowledge, and thus happily attained his twentieth 
year, a miracle of princely wisdom, but totally ignorant of 
love. 

About this time, however, a change came over the con- 
duct of the prince. He completely abandoned his studies 
and took to strolling about the gardens and musing by the 
side of the fomitains. He had been taught a little music 
among his various accomplishments; it now engrossed a 
great part of his time, and a turn for poetry became ap- 
parent. The sage Ebon Bonabbon took the alarm, and 
endeavored to work these idle humors out of him by a 
severe course of algebra; but the prince tm-ned from it 
with distaste. " I can not endure alegbra/' said he; "it 



THE ALHAMBRA. 141 

is an abomination to me. I want something that speaks 
more to the heart/' 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon shook his dry head at the 
words. " Here's an end to philosophy/' thought he. 
" The prince has discovered he has a heart!" He now 
kept anxious watch upon his pupil, and saw that the latent 
tenderness of his nature was in activity, and only wanted 
an object. He wandered about the gardens of the General- 
iffe in an intoxication of feelings of which he knew not the 
cause. Sometimes he would sit plunged in a delicious 
reverie; then he would seize his lute and draw from it the 
most touching notes, and then throw it aside, and break 
forth into sighs and ejaculations. 

By degrees this loving disposition began to extend to in- 
animate objects; he had his favorite flowers which he 
cherished with tender assiduity; then he became attached 
to various trees, and there was one in particualar, of a 
graceful form and drooping foliage, on which he lavished 
his amorous devotion, carving his name on its bark, hang- 
ing garlands on its branches, and singing couplets in its 
praise to the accompaniment of his lute. 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon was alarmed at this excited 
state of his jDupil. He saw him on the very brink of for- 
bidden knowledge — the least hint might reveal to him the 
fatal secret. Trembling for the safety of the prince and 
the security of his own head, he hastened to draw him from 
the seductions of the garden, and shut him up in the high- 
est tower of the Generalise. It contained beautiful apart- 
ments, and commanded an almost boundless prospect, but 
was elevated far above that atmosphere of sweets and those 
witchmg bowers so dangerous to the feelings of the too 
susceptible Ahmed. 

What was to be done, however, to reconcile him to this 
restraint and to beguile the tedious hours? He had ex- 
hausted almost all kinds of agreeable knowledge; and 
algebra was not to be mentioned. Fortmiately, Ebon 
Bonabbon had been instructed, when in Egypt, in the 
language of birds, by a Jewish rabbi, who had received it 
in lineal transmission from Solomon the Wise, who had 
been taught it by the Queen of Sheba. At the veiy men- 
tion of such a stud)^, the eyes of the prince sparkled with 
animation, and he applied himself to it with such avidity, 
that he soon became as great an adept as his master. 



14:2 THE ALHAMBEA. 

The tower of the GeneraJiffe was no longer a solitude; 
he had companions at hand with whom he could converse. 
The first acquaintance he formed was with a hawk who had 
built his nest in a crevice of the lofty battlements, from 
whence he soared far and wide in quest of prey. The 
prince,, however, found little to like or esteem in him. He 
was a mere pirate of the air, swaggering and boastful, 
whose talk was all about rapine, and carnage, and des- 
perate ex23loits. 

His next acquaintance was an owl, a mighty wise-looking 
bird, with a large head and staring eyes, who sat blinking 
and goggling all day in a hole in the wall, but roamed 
forth at night. He had great pretensions to wisdom, 
talked something of astrology and the moon, and hinted at 
the dark sciences, but he was grievously given to meta- 
physics, and the prince found his prosings were more pon- 
derous than those of the sage Ebon Bonabbon. 

Then there was a bat, that hung all day by his heels in 
the dark corner of a vault, but sallied out in a slipshod 
style at twilight. He, however, had but twilight ideas on 
all subjects, derided things of which he had taken but an 
imperfect view, and seemed to take delight in nothing. 

Beside these there was a swallow, with whom the prince 
was at first much taken. He was a smart talker, but rest- 
less, bustling, and forever on the wmg; seldom remaining 
long enough for any continued conversation. He turned 
out in the end to be a mere smatterer, who did but skim 
over the surface of things, pretending to know everything 
but knowing nothing thoroughly. 

These were the only feathered associates with whom the 
prince had any opportunity of exercising his newly acquired 
language; the tower was too high for any other birds to 
frequent it. He soon grew weary of liis new acquaint- 
ances, whose conversation spoke so little to the head and 
nothing to the heart, and gradually relapsed into his lone- 
liness. A winter passed away, spring 023ened with all its 
bloom, and verdure, and breathing sweetness, and the 
happy time arrived for birds to pair and build their nests. 
Suddenly, as it were, a universal burst of song and melody 
broke forth from the groves and gardens of the Generalise 
and reached the prince in the solitude of his tower. From 
every side he heard the same universal theme — love — love 
— love — chanted forth and responded to in every variety of 



THE ALHAMBEA. 143 

note and tone. The prince listened in silence and perplex- 
ity. " What can be this love/^ thought he, " of which the 
world seems so full, and of which I know nothing ?^^ He 
applied for information to his friend, the hawk. The 
ruffian bird answered, in a tone of scorn: "You must 
apply, ^^ said he, " to the vulgar, peaceable birds of earth, 
who are made for the prey of us princes of the air. My 
trade is war, and fighting my delight. In a word, I am a 
warrior, and know nothing of this thing called love.^^ 

The prince turned from him with disgust, and sought 
the owl in his retreat. " This is a bird,'' said he, " of 
peaceful habits, and may be able to solve my question." 
So he asked the owl to tell him what was this love about 
which all the birds in the groves below were smging. 

Upon this the owl put on a look of offended dignity. 
'^ My nights,'' said he, " are taken up in study and re- 
search, and my days in ruminating in myself upon all that 
I have learned. As to these singing-birds of whom you 
talk, I never listen to them. I despise them and their 
themes. Allah be praised! I can not sing. In a word, I 
am a philosopher, and know nothing of this thing called 
love." 

The prince now repaired to the vault where his friend, 
the bat, was hanging by the heels, and propounded the same 
question. The bat wrinkled up his nose into a most snap- 
pish expression. " Why do you disturb me in my morn- 
ing's nap with such an idle question?" said he, peevishly. 
" I only fly by twilight when all birds are asleep, and never 
trouble myself with their concerns. I am neither bird nor 
beast, and I thank Heaven for it. I have found out the 
villainy of the whole of them, and hate them one and all. 
In a word, I am a misanthrope, and know nothmg of this 
thing called love." 

As a last resort, the prince now sought the swallow, and 
stopped him just as he was circling about the summit of 
the tower. The swallow, as usual, was in a prodigious 
hurry, and had scarce time to make a reply. " Upon my 
word," said he, "I have so much public business to attend 
to, and so many pm'suits to follow, that I have had no time 
to think on the subject. I have every day a thousand 
visits to pay, a thousand affairs of importance to examine 
into, that leave me not a moment of leisure for these little 
sing-song matters. In a word, I am a citizen of the world. 



144 THE ALHAMBRA. 

I know nothing of this thing called love/' So saying, the 
swallow dived into the valley and was out of sight in a 
moment. 

The prince remained disappointed and perplexed, but 
with his curiosity still more piqued by the difficulty of 
gratifying it. A\hile in this mood, his ancient guardian 
entered the tower. The prince advanced eagerly to meet 
him. "Oh, sage Ebon Bonabbonl'^ cried he, "■ thou hast 
revealed to me much of the wisdom of the earth, but there 
is one thing of which I remain in utter ignorance, and 
would fain be informed. '' 

" My prince has but to make the inquiry, and everything 
within the limited range of his servant's intellect is at his 
command.'' 

" Tell me, then, oh, most profound of sages, what is the 
nature of this thmg called love?" 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon was struck as with a thunder- 
bolt. He trembled and turned pale, and felt as if his head 
sat but loosely on his shoulders. 

" What could suggest such a question to my prince? — 
where could he have learned so idle a word?" 

The prince led him to the window of the tower. 
"Listen, oh. Ebon Bonabbon!" said he. The sage list- 
ened. The nightingale sat in a thicket below the tower 
singing to his j^aramour, the rose; from every blossomed 
spray and tufted grove arose a strain of melody, and love — 
love — love was still the mivarying theme. " Allah Ach- 
bar! God is great!" exclaimed the wise Bonabbon. 
" Who shall pretend to keep this secret from the hearts of 
men when even the birds of the air consjDire to betray it?" 
Then turning to Ahmed, " Oh, my prince," cried he, 
" shut thine ears to these seductive strains. Close thy 
mind against this dangerous knowledge. Know that this 
love is the cause of half the ills of wretched mortality. It 
is this which produces bitterness of strife between brethren 
and friends, which causes treacherous murder and desolat- 
ing war. Care and sorrow, weary days and sleepless 
nights, are its attendants. It withers the bloom and 
blights the joys of 5^outh, and brings on the ills and griefs 
of premature old age. Allah preserve thee, my prince, in 
total ignorance of this thing called love!" 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon hastily retu-ed, leaving the 
prince plimged in still deeper perplexity. It was in vain 



THE ALHAMBRA. 145 

he attempted to dismiss the subject from his mind; it still 
continued uppermost in his thoughts, and teased and ex- 
hausted him with vain conjectures. '' Surely/^ said he to 
himself, as he listened to the tuneful strains of the birds, 
" there is no sorrow in these notes; everything seems ten- 
derness and joy. If love be a cause of such wretchedness 
and strife, why are not those birds drooping in solitude, or 
tearing one another in pieces, instead of fluttering cheer- 
fully about the groves, or sporting with one another among 
the flowers?''^ 

He lay one morning on his couch, meditating on this in- 
explicable matter. The window of his chamber was open 
to admit the soft morning breeze which came laden with 
the perfume of orange-blossoms from the valley of the 
Darro. The voice of the nightingale was faintly heard, 
still chanting the wonted theme. As the prince was listen- 
ing and sighing, there was a sudden rushing noise in the 
air; a beautiful dove, pursued by a hawk, darted in at the 
window, and fell panting on the floor, while the pursuer, 
balked of his prey, soared oif to the mountains. 

The prince took up the gasping bird, smoothed, its 
feathers, and nestled it in his bosom. When he had 
soothed it by his caresses, he put it in a golden cage, and 
offered it, with his own hands, the whitest and finest of 
wheat and the purest of water. The bird, however, re- 
fused food, and sat drooping and pining and uttering 
piteous moans. 

" What ailetli thee?'' said Ahmed. '^ Hast thou not 
evei-y thing thy heart can wish?'' 

'• Alas, no!" replied the dove; ''am I not separated 
from the partner of my heart, and that, too, in the happy 
spring-time — the very season of love?" 

" Of love!" echoed Ahmed. " I pray thee, my pretty 
bird, canst thou then tell me what is love?" 

" Too well can I, my prince. It is the torment of one, 
the felicity of two, the strife and enmity of three. It is a 
charm which draws two behigs together, and unites them 
by delicious sympathies, making it happiness to be with 
each other, but miserv to be apart. Is there no being to 
whom you are drawn hy these ties of tender affection?" 

" I like my old teacher. Ebon Bonabbon, better than 
any other being; but he is often tedious, and I occasionally 
feel myself happier without his society." 



146 THE ALHAMBEA. 

" That is not the sympathy I mean. I speak of love, 
the great mystery and principle of life, the intoxicating 
revel of youth, the sober delight of age. Look forth, my 
prince, and behold how at this blessed season all nature- is 
full of love. Every created being has its mate; the most 
insignificant bird smgs to its paramour; the very beetle 
wooes its lady beetle in the dust, and yon butterflies, which 
you see fluttering high above the tower and toying in the 
air, are happy in one another's love. Alas! my prince, 
hast thou spent so many of the precious days of youth 
without knowmg anything of love? Is there no gentle 
being of another sex, no beautiful prmcess, or lovely dam- 
sel who has insnared your heart and filled your bosom 
with the soft tumult of pleasing pains and tender wishes?'^ 

" I begm to understand!" said the prince, sighing. 
*^ Such a tumult I have more than once experienced with- 
out knowing the cause; and where should I seek for an 
object such as you describe, in this dismal solitude ?'' 

A little f ui'ther conversation ensued, and the first ama- 
tory lesson of the prince was complete. 

" Alas!'' said he, " if love be indeed such a delight, and 
its interruption such a misery, Allah forbid that I should 
mar the joy of any of its votaries." He opened the cage, 
took out the dove, and, having fondly kissed it, carried it 
to the window. " Go, happy bird," said he, " rejoice with 
the partner of thy heart in the days of youth and spring- 
time. Why should I make thee a fellow-prisoner in this 
dreary tower, where love can never enter?" 

The dove flapped its wings in rapture, gave one vault 
into the air, and then swooped downward on whistling 
wings to the blooming bowers of the Darro. 

The prince followed him with his eyes, and then gave 
way to bitter repining. The singing of the birds which 
once delighted him now added to his bitterness. Love! 
love! love! Alas! poor youth, he now miderstood the 
strain! 

His eyes flashed fire when next he beheld the sage 
Bonabbon. " Why hast thou kept me in this abject 
ignorance?" cried he. " Why has the great mystery and 
principle of life been withheld from me, in which I find 
tile meanest insect is so learned? Behold, all nature is in a 
revel of delight. Every created being rejoices with its 
inate. This — this is the love about wliich I have sought 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



147 



instruction; why am I alone debarred its enjoyment? why 
has so much of my youth been wasted without a knowledge 
of its rapture?^' 

The sage Bonabbon saw that all further reserve was use- 
less, for the prince had acquired the dangerous and forbid- 
den knowledge. He revealed to him, therefore, the pre- 
dictions of the astrologers, and the precautions that had 
been taken m his education to avert the threatened evils. 
'' And now, my prmce," added he, " my life is in your 
hands. Let the kmg, your father, discover that you have 
learned the passion of love while under my guardianship, 
and my head must answer for it. ^' 

The prince was as reasonable as most young men of his 
age, and easily listened to the remonstrances of his tutor, 
since nothing pleaded against them. Besides, he really was 
attached to the sage Bonabbon, and being as yet but theo- 
retically acquainted with the passion of love, he consented 
to confine the knowledge of it to his own bosom, rather 
than endanger the head of the philosopher. His discretion 
was doomed, however, to be put to still further proofs. A 
few mornmgs afterward, as he was ruminatmg on the 
battlements of the tower, the dove which had been released 
by him came hovering in the air, and alighted fearlessly 
upon his shoulder. , . -, „ 

The prmce fondled it to his breast. " Happy bird, 
said he, " who can fly, as it were, with the wings of the 
morning to the uttermost parts of the earth. Where hast 
thou been smce we parted?'' 

" In a far country, my prmce, from whence I brmg you 
tidmgs m reward for my liberty. In the wide compass of 
my flight, which extends over plain and mountain, as I 
was soaring in the air, I beheld below me a delightful gar- 
den with all kinds of fruits and flowers. It was in a green 
meadow on the banks of a meandermg stream, and m the 
center of the garden was a stately palace. I alighted in 
one of the bowers to repose after my weary flight; on the 
green bank below me was a youthful princess in the very 
sweetness and bloom of her years. She was surrounded by 
female attendants, young like herself, who decked her with 
garlands and coronets of flowers; but no flower of field pr 
garden could compare with her for loveliness. Here, how- 
ever, she bloomed in secret, for the garden was surrounded 
by high walls, and no mortal man was permitted to enter. 



148 THE ALHAMBEA. 

When I beheld this beauteous maid thus young, and inno- 
cent, and unspotted by the world, I thought, here is the 
being formed by Heaven to inspire my prince with love/* 

The description was as a spark of fire to the combustible 
heart of Ahmed; all the latent amorousness of his tem- 
perament had at once found an object, and he conceived an 
immeasurable j^assion for the jirincess. He wrote a letter 
couched in the most imj^assioned language, breathing his 
fervent devotion, but bewailing the unhappy thraldom of 
his person, which prevented him from seeking her out, and 
throwing himself at her feet. He added couplets of the 
most tender and moving eloquence, for he was a poet by 
nature and inspired by love. He addressed his letter, 
" To the unknown beauty, from the captive Prince 
Ahmed, ^^ then perfuming it with musk and roses, he gave 
it to the dove. 

*' Away, trustiest of messengers,*^ said he. " Fly over 
momitain, and valley, and river, and plain; rest not in 
bower nor set foot on earth until thou hast given this 
letter to the mistress of my heart.** 

The dove soared high m air, and taking his course, dart- 
ed away in one undeviatiug direction. The jDrince followed 
him with his eye until he was a mere speck on a cloud, and 
gradually disappeared behind a mountain. 

Day after day he watched for the return of the messen- 
ger of love; but he watched in vain. He began to accuse 
him of forgetfulness, when toward smiset, one evening, the 
faithful bird fluttered into his apartment, and, falling at 
his feet, exjDired. The arrow of some wanton archer had 
pierced his breast, yet he had struggled with the lingerings 
of life to execute his mission. As the prince bent with 
grief over this gentle martyr to fidelity, he beheld a chain 
of pearls roimd his neck, attached to which, beneath his 
wing, was a small enameled picture. It represented a 
lovely princess in the very flower of her j-ears. It was, 
doubtless, the unknown beauty of the garden; but who and 
where was she — how had she received his letter — and was 
this jDicture sent as a token of approval of his passion? 
Unfortunately, the death of the faithful dove left every- 
tliing in mystery and doubt. 

The prince gazed on the picture till his eyes swam with 
tears. He pressed it to his lips and to his heart; he sat for 
hours contemplating it in an almost agony of tenderness. 



THE ALHAMBBA. 1*^ 



"•Beautiful image!" said he. "Alas! thou art but an 
imaee YetThy dewy eyes beam tenderly upon me; those 
TOsvl%s look a/thoiigh they would speak encouragement. 
VaLfandes! Have they not looked the ^ame on some 
more happy rival? But where in this wide world shall I 
hope to fin 1 the original? AVho knows what mountams, 
wlmt realm may separate us? What adverse chance may 
hi e yen r Perhaps now, even now, lovers may be crowd- 
ing around her, while I sit here, a prisoner m a^tower, wast- 
ing my time in adoration of a painted shadow. 

The resolution of Prince Ahmed was taken. I will fly 
fromthTpalace," said he, " which has become an odious 
Sn aBS!a pilgrim of love, will seek this unknown 
■nrinoess throughout the world. 

^ To escape Lm the tower in the day when every one 
was awake might be a difficult matter; but at night the 
plcrwas Zhtly guarded, for no one apprehended any 
attempt of the^ini from the prince, wlio had a ways been 
so Se in his captivity. How was he to guide himself, 
howeve" in his dartling flight, being ignorant of the coun- 
try' He bethought him of the owl, who was accustomed 
to^roam at night, and must know every by-lane and secret 
pass sS him in his hermitage, he q^e^tioned him 
Cching his toowledge of the land. Upon this the owl 
put on a mighty self-important look. ^^ 

^ "You must know, oh, prince, said he "at we oww 
are of a very ancient and extensive famdy, though ratner 
Men to deoL and possess ruinous castles and palaces m 
S parts of Spain. There is scarcely a tower of the mount- 
Is^ or fortress of the plains, or an old citade of a city 
Ct has some brother, or uncle, or cousm quartered m it 
and in goinTthe rounds to visit these my numerous kindred 
I have prkd into every nook and corner,^ and made myself 
acquauited with every secret f t^^^ hind 

The prmce was overjoyed to find the owl so aeejiiy 
versed hi topography, and now informed him, m confi- 
dence, of to teX ^passion and his intended elopement, 
urging him to be his companion and counselor. 

°' Go to'" said the owl, with a look ot displeasure. 
" Am I a bird to engage in a love ailair-,, whose whole 
time is devoted to meditation and the mooiii^ 

« B„ not. offended, most solemn owl! lephed tne 



prmce 



""' "? Vsfr^^f V-irfo7rtoe ■from meditation 



150 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and the moon, and aid me in my flight, and thou shall 
have whatever heart can wish/^ 

^^ I have that edreadj/' said the owl. " A few mice are 
sufficient for my frugal table, and this hole in the wall is 
spacious enough for my studies, and what more does a 
philosopher like myself desire ?^^ 

^' Bethink thee, most wise owl, that while moping in thy 
cell and gazing at the moon all thy talents are lost to the 
world. I shall one day be a sovereign prince, and may ad- 
vance thee to some post of honor and dignity.'^ 

The owl, though a philosopher, and above the ordinary 
wants of life, was not above ambition; so he was finally 
prevailed upon to elope with the prince, and be his guide 
and Mentor in his pilgrimage. 

The plans of a lover are promptly executed. The prince 
collected all his jewels, and concealed them about his per- 
son as traveling funds. That very night he lowered him- 
self by his scarf from a balcony of the tower, clambered 
over the outer walls of the Generaliife, and, guided by the 
owl, made good his escape before morning to the mount- 
ains. 

He now held a council with his Mentor as to his future 
course. 

" Might I advise, '^ said the owl, " I would recommend 
you to repair to Seville. You must know that many years 
since I was on a visit to an uncle, an owl of great dignity 
and power, who lived in a ruined wing of the Alcazar of 
that place. In my hoverings at night over the city, I fre- 
quently remarked a light burning in a lonely tower. At 
length I alighted on the battlements, and found it to pro- 
ceed from the lamp of an Arabian magician. He was 
surrounded by his magic books, and on his shoulder was 
perched his familiar, an ancient raven, who had come with 
him from Egypt. I became acquainted with that raven, 
and owe to him a great part of the knowledge I possess. 
The magician is since dead, but the raven still inhabits the 
tower, for these birds are of wonderful long life. I would 
advise you, oh, prince, to seek that raven, for he is a sooth- 
sayer and a conjurer, and deals in the black art, for which 
all ravens, and especially those of Egypt, are renowned.''^ 

The prince was struck with the wisdom of this advice, 
and accordingly bent his course toward Seville. He 
traveled only in the night, to accommodate his companion. 



THE ALHAMBEA. 151 

and lay by during the day in some dark cavern or molder- 
ing watch-tower, for the owl knew every hiding hole of 
the kind in the coimtry, and had a most antiquarian taste 
for ruins. 

At length, one morning at day-break, they reached the 
city of Seville, where the owl, who hated the glare and 
bustle of crowded streets, halted without the gate, and took 
up his quarters in a hollow tree. 

The prince entered the gate, and readily found the magic 
tower, which rose above the houses of the city as a palm- 
tree rises above the shrubs of the desert. It was, in fact, 
the same tower known at the present day as the Giralda, 
the famous Moorish tower of Seville. 

The prince ascended by a great winding staircase to the 
summit of the tower, where he fomid the cabalistic raven, 
an old, mysterious, gray-headed bird, ragged in feather, 
with a film over one eye that gave him the glare of a spec- 
ter. He was perched on one leg, with his head turned on 
one side, and poring with his remaining eye on a diagram 
described on the pavement. 

The prince approached him with the awe and reverence 
naturally inspired by his venerable appearance and super- 
natural wisdom. " Pardon me, most ancient and darkly 
wise raven," exclaimed he, "if for a moment I interrupt 
those studies which are the wonder of the world. You be- 
hold before you a votary of love, who would fain seek 
counsel how to obtain the object of his passion.'^ 

" In other words," said the raven, with a significant 
look, *'you seek to try my skill in palmistry. Come, 
show me your hand, and let me decipher the mysterious 
lines of fortune." 

" Excuse me," said the prince, " I come not to pry into 
the decrees of fate, which are hidden by Allah from the 
eyes of mortals. I am a pilgrim of love, and seek but to 
find a clew to the object of my pilgrimage." 

" And can you be at any loss for an object in amorous 
Andalusia?" said the old raven, leering upon him with his 
single eye. " Above all, can you be at a loss in wanton 
Seville, where black-eyed damsels dance the zambra under 
every orange -grove?" 

The prince blushed, and was somewhat shocked at hear- 
ing an old bird, with one foot in the grave, talk thus loose- 
ly. " Believe me," said he, gravely, *' I am on none such 



152 THE ALHAMBEA. 

light and vagrant errand as thou dost insinuate. The 
black-e3^ed damsels of Andalusia who dance among the 
orange-groves of the Guadalquiver, are as naught to me. 
I seek one unknown but immaculate beauty, the original of 
this picture, and I beseech thee, most potent raven, if it be 
within the scope of thy knowledge, or the reach of thy art, 
inform me where she may be found.'' 

The gray-headed raven was rebuked by the gravity of 
the prince. '' What know I,'' replied he, dryly, " of 
youth and beauty? My visits are to the old and withered, 
not the young and fair. The harbinger of fate am I, who 
croak bodings of death from the chimney-top, and flap my 
wings at the sick man's window. You must seek elsewhere 
for tidings of your unknown beauty." 

" And where am I to seek, if not among the sons of wis- 
dom, versed in the book of destiny? A royal prince am I, 
fated by the stars, and sent on a mysterious enterprise, on 
which may hang the destiny of empires." 

When the raven heard that it was a matter of vast mo- 
ment, in which the stars took interest, he changed his tone 
and manner, and listened with profound attention to the 
story of the prince. Wlien it was concluded, he replied, 
'^ Touching this princess, I can give thee no information 
of myself, for my flight is not among gardens or around 
ladies' bowers; but hie thee to Cordova, seek the palm-tree 
of the great Abderahman, which stands in the court of the 
principal mosque; at the foot of it you will find a great 
traveler, who has visited all countries and courts, and been 
a favorite with queens and princesses. He will give you 
tidings of the object of your search." 

*' Many thanks for this precious information," said the 
prince. " Farewell, most venerable conjurer." 

" Farewell, pilgrim of love," said the raven, dryly, and 
again fell to pondering on the diagram. 

The prince sallied forth from Seville, sought his fellow 
traveler, the owl, who was still dozing in the hollow tree, 
and set off for Cordova. 

He approached it along hanging gardens and orange 
and citron groves overlooking the fair valley of the Guadal- 
quiver. When arrived at its gates, the owl flew up to a 
dark hole in the wall, and the prince proceeded in quest of 
the palm-tree planted in days of yore by the great Ab- 
derahman. It stood in the rnidst of the great court of the 



THE ALHAMBEA. 153 

mosque, towering from amid orange and cypress-trees. 
Dervishs and fakirs were seated in groups under the cloisters 
of the court, and many of the faithful were performing 
their ablutions at the fountains, before entering the 
mosque. 

At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd listening to the 
words of one who appeared to be talking with great volu- 
bility. This, said the prince to himself, must be the great 
traveler who is to give me tidings of the unknown princess. 
He mingled in the crowd, but was astonished to perceive 
that they were all listening to a parrot, who, with his 
bright green coat, pragmatical eye, and consequential top- 
knot, had the air of a bird on excellent terms with him- 
self. 

" How is this,'^ said the prince to one of the by-standers, 
*' that so many grave persons can be delighted with the 
garrulity of a chattering bird?^' 

"You know not of whom you speak, ^' said the other; 
" this parrot is a descendant of the famous parrot of Persia, 
renowned for his story-telling talent. He has all the learn- 
ing of the East at the tip of his tongue, and can quote 
poetry as fast as he can talk. He has visited various 
foreign courts, where he has been considered an oracle of 
erudition. He has been a universal favorite also with the 
fair sex, who have a vast admiration for erudite parrots 
that can quote poetry. '^ 

'' Enough, ^^ said the prince, " I will have some j)rivate 
talk with this distinguished traveler. '^ 

He sought a private interview, and expounded the nature 
of his errand. He had scarcely mentioned it, when the 
parrot burst into a fit of dry, rickety laughter that abso- 
lutely brought tears in his eyes. " Excuse my mirth, ^^ 
said he, " but the mere mention of love always sets me 
laughing. ^^ 

The prince was shocked at this ill-timed merriment. 
" Is not love,^^ said he, " the great mystery of nature, the 
secret principle of life, the universal bond of sympathy ?^^ 

"A fig's end!'' cried the parrot, interru23ting "him. 
" Prithee, where hast thou learned this sentimental jargon? 
Trust me, love is quite out of vogue; one never hears of it 
in the company of wits and people of refinement." 

The prmce sighed as he recalled the different language 
of his friend^ the dove. But this parrot, thought he, has 



154 THE ALHAMBRA. 

lived about court; he affects the wit and the fine gentle- 
man; he knows nothing of the thing called love. 

Unwilling to provoke any more ridicule of the sentiment 
which filled his heart, he now directed his inquiries to the 
immediate purport of his visit. 

" Tell me/' said he, " most accomplished parrot, thou 
who hast everywhere been admitted to the most secret 
bowers of beauty, hast thou in the course of thy travels 
met with the original of this portrait ?*' 

The parrot took the picture in his claw, turned his head 
from side to side, and examined it curiously with either 
eye. " Upon my honor, ^^ said he, "a very pretty face — 
very pretty. But then one sees so many pretty women in 
one^s travels that one can hardly — But hold — bless me! 
now I look at it again — sui-e enough, this is the Princess 
Aldegonda. How could I forget one that is so prodigious 
a favorite with me?'^ 

" The Princess Aldegonda!^' echoed the prince. " And 
where is she to be found ?^' 

" Softly — softly,^' said the parrot; " easier to be found 
than gained. She is the only daughter of the Christian 
king who reigns at Toledo, and is shut up from the world 
until her seventeenth birthday, on account of some predic- 
tion of those meddlesome fellows, the astrologers. You^U 
not get a sight of her; no mortal man can see her. I was 
admitted to her presence to entertain her, and I assure 
you, on the word of a parrot who has seen the world, I 
have conversed with much sillier princesses in my time."'' 

"A word in confidence, my dear parrot, '^ said the 
prince. " I am heir to a kingdom, and shall one day sit 
upon a throne. I see that you are a bird of parts, and 
understand the word. Help me to gain possession of this 
princess, and I will advance you to some distinguished post 
about courf 

" With all my heart," said the parrot; " but let it be a 
sinecure, if possible, for we wits have a great dislike to 
labor.'' 

Arrangements were promptly made; the prince sallied 
forth from Cordova through the same gate by which he had 
entered, called the owl down from the hole in the wall, in- 
troduced him to his new traveling-companion as a brother 
savant, and away they set off on their journey. 

They traveled much more slowly than accorded with the 



THE ALHAMBRA. 155 

impatience of the prince, but the parrot was accustomed to 
high life, and did not like to be disturbed early in the 
morning. The owl, on the other hand, was for sleeping at 
midday, and lost a great deal of time by his long siestas. 
His antiquarian taste also was in the way; for he insisted 
on pausmg and inspecting every ruin, and had long legend- 
ary tales to tell about every old tower and castle in the 
country. The prince had supposed that he and the parrot, 
being both birds of learning, could delight in each other's 
society, but never had he been more mistaken. They were 
eternally bickering. The one was a wit, the other a 
philosopher. The parrot quoted poetry, was critical on 
new readings, and eloquent on small points of erudition; 
the owl treated all such knowledge as trifling, and relished 
nothing but metaphysics. Then the parrot would sing 
songs and repeat bon mots, and crack jokes upon his solemn 
neighbor, and laugh outrageously at his own wit; all which 
the owl considered a grievous invasion of his dignity, and 
would scowl, and swell, and sit silent for a whole day to- 
gether. 

The prince heeded not the wranglings of his companions, 
being wrapped up in the dreams of his own fancy, and the 
contemplation of the portrait of the beautiful princess. In 
this way they journeyed through the stern passes of the 
Sierra Morena, across the sunburned plains of La Mancha 
and Castile, and along the banks of the " Golden Tagus,'' 
which winds its wizard mazes over one half of Spain and 
Portugal. At length, they came m sight of a strong city 
with walls and towers, built on a rocky promontory, round 
the foot of which the Tagus circled with brawling violence. 

** Behold," exclaimed the owl, " the ancient and re- 
nowned city of Toledo — a city famous for its antiquities! 
Behold those venerable domes and towers, hoary with time, 
and clothed with legendary grandeur, in which so many of 
my ancestors have meditated— '^ 

" Pish!''' cried the parrot, interrupting his solemn, anti- 
quarian rapture, " what have we to do with antiquities, 
and legends, and your ancestors? Behold, what is more to 
the purpose, behold the abode of youth and beauty — be- 
hold, at length, oh, prince, the abode of your long-sought 
princess!'' 

The prince looked in the direction indicated by the par- 
rot, and beheld, in a delightful green meadow on the banks 



156 THE ALHAMBKA. 

of the Tagus, a stately palace rising from amidst the bowers 
of a delicious garden. It was just such a place as had been 
described by the dove as the residence of the original of the 
picture. He gazed at it with a throbbing heart. '^ Perhaps 
at this moment/^ thought he, '* the beautiful jDrincess is 
sporting beneath those shady bowers, or pacing with deli- 
cate step those stately terraces, or reposing beneath those 
lofty roofs !^^ As he looked more narrowly, he perceived 
that the walls of the garden were of great height, so as to 
defy access, while numbers of armed guards patroled 
around them. 

The prmce turned to the parrot. '^ Oh, most accom- 
plished of birds, ^^ said he, " thou hast the gift of human 
speech; hie thee to yon garden, seek the idol of my soul, 
and tell her that Prince Ahmed, a pilgrim of love, and 
guided by the stars, has arrived in quest of her on the 
flowery banks of the Tagus.'^ 

The parrot, proud of his embassy, flew away to the gar- 
den, mounted above its lofty w^alls, and, after soaring for a 
time over the lawns and groves, alighted on the balcony of 
a pavilion that overhung the river. Here, looking in at 
the casement, he beheld the princess reclinging on a couch, 
with her eyes fixed on a paper, while tears gently stole 
after one another down her j^allid cheek. 

Pluming his wdngs for a moment, adjusting his bright 
green coat, and elevating his top-knot, the parrot perched 
himself beside her with a gallant air; then assuming a ten- 
derness of tone : 

" Dry thy tears, most beautiful of princesses,'^ said he; 
** I come to bring solace to thy heart.'' 

The princess was startled on hearing a voice, but turning 
and seeing nothing but a little green-coated bird bobbing 
and bowing before her: "Alas! what solace canst thou 
yield," said she, " seeing thou art but a parrot?" 

The parrot was nettled at the question. '* I have con- 
soled many beautiful ladies in my time," said he; ''but 
let that pass. At present I come embassador from a royal 
prince. Know that Ahmed, the Prince of Granada, has 
arrived in quest of thee, and is encamped even now on the 
flowery banks of the Tagus." 

The eyes of the beautiful princess sparkled at these 
\A'ords, even brighter than the diamonds in her coronet. 

" Oh; sweetest of parrots/' cried she, ''joyful indeed are 



THE ALHAMBEA. 157 

thy tidings! for I was faint, and weary, and sick almost 
unto death with doubt of the constancy of Ahmed. Hie 
thee back, and tell him that the words of his letter are en- 
graven in my heart, and his poetry has been the food of 
my soul. Tell him, however, that he must prepare to 
j)rove his love by force of arms; to-morrow is my seven- 
teenth birthday, when the king, my father, holds a great 
tournament; several princes are to enter the lists, and my 
hand is to be the prize of the victor/' 

The parrot again took wing, and, rustling through the 
groves, flew back to where the prince awaited his return. 
The rapture of Ahmed, on finding the original of his adored 
portrait, and finding her kind and true, can only be con- 
ceived by those favored mortals who have had the good 
fortune to realize day-dreams, and tm-n shadows into sub- 
stance. Still, there was one thing that alloyed his transport 
— this impending tournament. In fact, the banks of the 
Tagus were already glittering with arms, and resounding 
with trumpets of the various knights, who, with proud ret- 
inues, were prancing on toward Toledo to attend the cere- 
monial. The same star that had controlled the destiny of 
the prince had governed that of the princess, and until her 
seventeenth birthday she had been shut up from the world, 
to guard her from the tender passion. The fame of her 
charms, however, had been enhanced, rather thaii obscured 
by this seclusion. Several powerful princes had contended 
for her alliance, and her father, who was a king of won- 
drous shrewdness, to avoid making enemies by showing 
partiality, had referred them to the arbitrament of arms. 
Among the rival candidates were several renowned for 
strength and prowess. What a predicament for the un- 
fortunate Ahmed, unprovided as he was with weapons, and 
unskilled in the exercises of chivalry! "Luckless prince 
that I am!'' said he, "to have been brought up in seclu- 
sion, under the eye of a philosopher! Of what avail are 
algebra and philosophy in affairs of love? Alas! Ebon 
Bonabbon, why hast thou neglected to m struct me in the 
management of arms?" Upon this the owl broke silence, 
prefacing his harangue with a pious ejaculation, for he was 
a devout Mussulman : 

" Allah Achbar! God is great!" exclaimed he, "in His 
hands are all secret things; He alone governs the destiny of 
princes! Know, oh, prince, that this land is full of mys- 



158 THE ALHAMBEA. 

teries, hidden from all but those who, like myself, can 
grope after knowledge in the dark. Know that in the 
neighboring mountains there is a cave, and in that cave 
there is an iron table, and on that table lies a suit of magic 
armor, and beside that table stands a spell-bound steed, 
which have been shut up there for many generations/' 

The prince stared with wonder, while the owl, blinking 
his huge round eyes and erecting his horns, proceeded: 

*' Many years since, I accompanied my father to these 
parts on a tour of his estates, and we sojourned in that 
cave, and thus became I acquamted with the mystery. It 
is a tradition in our family, which I have heard from my 
grandfather when I was yet but a very little owlet, that 
this armor belonged to a Moorish magician, who took 
refuge in this cavern when Toledo was captured by the 
Christians, and died here, leaving his steed and weapons 
under a mystic spell, never to be used but by a Moslem, 
and by him only from sunrise to midday. In that 
interval, whoever uses them, will overthrow every oppo- 
nent 

*' Enough; let us seek this cave!'' exclaimed Ahmed. 

Guided by his legendary Mentor, the prince found the 
cavern, which was in one of the wildest recesses of those 
rocky cliffs which rose around Toledo; none b^t the mous- 
ing eye of an owl or an antiquary could have discovered the 
entrance to it. A sepulchral lamp of everlasting oil shed a 
solemn light through the place. On an iron table in the 
center of the cavern lay the magic armor, against it leaned 
the lance, and beside it stood an Arabian steed, caparisoned 
for the field, but motionless as a statue. The armor was 
bright and unsullied, as it had gleamed in days of old; the 
steed in as good condition as if just from the pasture, and 
when Ahmed laid his hand upon his neck, he pawed the 
ground and gave a loud neigh of joy that shook the walls 
of the cavern. Thus provided with horse to ride and 
weapon to wear, the prmce determined to defy the field at 
the impending tourney. 

The eventful morning arrived. The lists for the combat 
were prepared in the Vega or plain just below the cliff -built 
walls of Toledo. Here were erected stages and galleries 
for the spectators, covered with rich tapestry and sheltered 
from the sim by silken awnings. All the beauties of the 
land were assembled in those galleries, while below pranced 



THE ALHAMBRA. 159 

plumed knights with their pages and esquires, among 
whom figured conspicuously the princes who were to con- 
tend in the tourney. All the beauties of the land, how- 
ever, were eclipsed when the Princess Aldegonda appeared 
in the royal pavilion, and for the first time broke forth 
upon the gaze of an admiring world. A murmur of won- 
der ran through the crowd at her transcendant loveliness; 
and the princes who were candidates for her hand merely 
on the faith of her reported charms, now felt tenfold ardor 
for the conflict. 

The princess, however, had a troubled look. The color 
came and went from her cheek, and her eye wandered with 
a restless and unsatisfied expression over the plumed throng 
of knights. The trumpets were about sounding for the 
encounter, when a herald announced the arrival of a stran- 
ger knight, and Ahmed rode into the field. A steeled 
helmet studded with gems rose above his turban; his 
cuirass was embossed with gold; his cimeter and dagger 
were of the workmanship of Fay, and flamed with precious 
stones. A round shield was at his shoulder, and in his 
hand he bore the lance of charmed virtue. The caparison 
of his Arabian was richly embroidered, and swept the 
ground; and the proud animal pranced and snuffed the air, 
and neighed with joy at once more beholdmg the array of 
arms. The lofty and graceful demeanor of the prince 
struck every eye, and when his appellation was annoimced, 
" The pilgrim of love,^^ a universal flutter and agitation 
prevailed among the fair dames in the galleries. 

When Ahmed presented himself at the lists, however, 
they were closed against him; none but princes, he was 
told, were admitted to the contest. He declared his name 
and rank. Still worse; he was a Moslem, and could not 
engage in a tourney where the hand of a Christian princess 
was the prize. 

The rival prmces surrounded him with haughty and 
menacing aspect, and one, of insolent demeanor and her- 
culean frame, sneered at his light and youthful form, and 
scoffed at his amorous appellation. The ire of the prince 
was roused; he defied his rival to the encounter. They 
took distance, wheeled, and charged. At the first touch of 
the magic lance the brawny scoffer was tilted from his 
saddle. Here the prince would have paused, but, alas! he 
had to deal with a demoniac horse and armor; once in 



160 THE ALHAMBKA. 

action, nothing could control them. The Arabian steed 
charged into the thickest of the throng; the lance over- 
turned everything that presented; the gentle pruice was 
carried pell-mell about the field, strewing it with high and 
low, gentle and simple, and grieving at his own involuntary 
exploits. The king stormed and raged at this outrage on 
his subjects and his guests. He ordered^ out all his guards 
— they were unhorsed as fast as they came up. The king 
threw off his robes, grasped buckler and lance, and rode 
forth to awe the stranger with the presence of majesty it- 
self. Alas! majesty fared no better than the vulgar; the 
steed and lance were no respecters of persons; to the dis- 
may of Ahmed, he was borne full tilt against the king, and 
in a moment the royal heels were in the air, and the crown 
was rolling m the dust. 

At this moment the sun reached the meridian; the magic 
spell resumed its j)Ower. The Arabian steed scoured across 
the plain, leaped the barrier, plunged into the Tagus, 
swam its raging current, bore the prince, breathless and 
amazed, to the cavern, and resumed his station like a 
statue beside the iron table. The prince dismounted right 
gladly, and replaced the armor, to abide the f ui'ther decrees 
of fate. Then seatmg himself in the cavern, he ruminated 
on the desperate state to which this bedeviled steed and 
armor had reduced him. Never should he dare to show 
his face at Toledo, after inflicting such disgrace upon its 
chivalry and such an outrage on its king. What, too, 
would the princess think of so rude and riotous an achieve- 
ment? Full of anxiety, he sent forth his winged messen- 
gers to gather tidings. The parrot resorted to all the pub- 
lic places and crowded resorts of the city, and soon returned 
with a world of gossip. All Toledo was in consternation. 
The princess had been borne off senseless to the palace; the 
tournament had ended in confusion; every one was talking 
of the sudden apparition, prodigious exploits, and strange 
disa23pearance of the Moslem knight. Some pronounced 
him a Moorish magician; others thought him a demon who 
had assumed a human shape; while others related traditions 
of enchanted warriors hidden in the caves of the mountains, 
and thought it might be one of these who had made a sud- 
den erujDtion from his den. All agreed that no mere 
ordinary mortal could have wrought such wonders or un- 
horsed such accomplished and stalwart Cliiistian warriors. 



THE ALHAMBEA. Ibl 

The owl flew forth at night, and hovered about the dusky 
city, perching on the roofs and chimneys. He then wheeled 
his flight up to the royal palace, which stood on the rocky 
summit of Toledo, and went prowling about its terraces 
and battlements, eavesdropping at every cranny and glar- 
ing in with his big goggling eyes at every window where 
there was a light, so as to throw two or three maids of 
honor into fits. It was not until the gray dawn began to 
peer above the mountains that he returned from his mous- 
ing expedition, and related to the prince what he had seen. 

^* As I was prying about one of the loftiest towers of the 
palace, ^^ said he, ''I beheld through a casement a beauti- 
ful princess. She was reclining on a couch, with attend- 
ants and physicians around her, but she would none of their 
ministry and relief. When they retired, I beheld her draw 
forth a letter from her bosom, and read, and kiss it, and 
give way to loud lamentations; at which, philosopher as I 
am, I could not but be greatly moved. ^^ 

The tender heart of Ahmed was distressed at these tid- 
ings. " Too true were thy words, oh, sage Ebon Bonab- 
bon!" cried he. *^ Care, and sorrow, and sleepless nights 
are the lot of lovers. Allah preserve the princess from the 
blighting influence of this thmg called love."' 

Further intelligence from Toledo corroborated the report 
of the owl. The city was a prey to uneasiness and alarm. 
The princess was conveyed to the highest tower of the 
palace, every avenue to which was strongly guarded. In 
the meantime, a devouring melancholy had seized upon 
her, of which no one could divine the cause. She refused 
food, and turned a deaf ear to every consolation. The 
most skillful physicians had essayed llieir art in vain; it 
was thought some magic spell had been practiced upon 
her, and the king made proclamation, declaring that who- 
ever should effect her cure should receive the richest jewel 
in the royal treasury. 

When the owl, who was dozing in a corner, heard of this 
proclamation, he rolled his large eyes and looked more 
mysterious than ever. 

"Allah Achbar!"' exclaimed he. "Happy the man 
that shall effect that cure, should he but know what to 
choose from the royal treasury. "*" 

" What mean you, most reverend owl?"" said Ahmed. 

" Hearken, oh, prince, to what I shall relate. We owls^ 

6 



162 THE ALHAMBKA. 

you must know, are a learned body, and mucli given to 
dark and dusty research. During my late prowling at 
night about the domes and turrets of Toledo, I discovered 
a college of antiquarian owls, who hold their meetings in a 
great vaulted tower where the royal treasure is deposited. 
Here they were discussmg the forms and inscriptions, and 
designs of ancient gems and jewels, and of golden and 
silver vessels heaped up in the treasury, the fashion of 
every country and age; but mostly they were interested 
about certain relics and talismans that have remained m 
the treasury since the time of Roderick the Goth. Among 
these was a box of shittim-wood, secured by bands of steel 
of Oriental workmanship, and inscribed with mystic 
characters known only to the learned few. This box and 
its mscription had occupied the college for several sessions, 
and had caused much long and grave dispute. At the time 
of my visit, a very ancient owl, who had recently arrived 
from Egypt, was seated on the lid of the box, lecturing 
upon the inscription, and proved from it, that the coffer 
contained the silken carpet of the throne of Solomon the 
Wise, which doubtless had been brought to Toledo by the 
Jews who took refuge there after the downfall of Jerusa- 
lem.^^ 

When the owl had concluded his antiquarian harangue, 
the prince remained for a time absorbed in thought. " I 
have heard, ^^ said he, " from the sage Ebon Bonabbon, of 
the wonderful properties of that talisman, which disap- 
peared at the fall of Jerusalem, and was supposed to be 
lost to mankind. Doubtless it remains a sealed mystery to 
the Christians of Toledo. If I can get possession of that 
carpet, my fortune is secure. ^^ 

The next day the prince laid aside his rich attire, and 
arrayed himself in the simple garb of an Arab of the 
desert. He dyed his complexion to a tawny hue, and no 
one could have recognized hi him the splendid warrior who 
had caused siich admiration and dismay at the tournament. 
With staff in hand and scrip by his side, and a small 
pastoral reed, he repaired to Toledo, and presenting him- 
self at the gate of the royal palace, aimounced himself as a 
candidate for the reward offered for the cure of the prin- 
cess. The guards would have driven him away with blows : 
'' What can a vagrant Arab like thyself jjretend to do,^" 
said they, " in a case where the most learned of the land 



THE ALHAMBRA. 163 

have failed?" The king, however, overheard the tumult, 
and ordered the Arab to be brought into his presence. 

"Most potent king/' said Ahmed, ''you behold before 
you a Bedouin Arab, the greater part of whose life has 
been passed in the solitudes of the desert. Those solitudes, 
it is well known, are the haunts of demons and evil spirits, 
who beset us poor shepherds in our lonely watchings, enter 
into and possess oui' flocks and herds, and sometimes render 
jven the patient camel furious. Against these our counter- 
charm is music; and we have legendary airs handed down 
from generation to generation, that we chant and pipe to 
cast forth these evil spirits. I am of a gifted line, and 
possess this power in its fullest force. If it be any evil in- 
fluence of the kind that holds a spell over thy daughter, I 
pledge my head to free her from its sway.'' 

The king, who was a man of understanding, and knew 
the wonderful secrets possessed by the Arabs, was inspired 
with hope by the confident language of the prince. He 
conducted him immediately to the lofty tower secured by 
several doors, in the summit of which was the chamber of 
the princess. The windows opened upon a terrace with 
balustrades, commanding a view over Toledo and all the 
surrounding country. The windows were darkened, for 
the princess lay within, a prey to a devouring grief 'that re- 
fused all alleviation. 

The prince seated liimself on the terrace, and performed 
several wild Arabian airs on his pastoral pipe, which he 
had learned from his attendants in the Generaliffe at 
Granada. The princess continued insensible, and the doc- 
tors, who were present, shook their heads, and smiled with 
incredibility and contempt. At length the prince laid aside 
the reed, and to a simple melody chanted the amatory 
verses of the letter which had declared his passion. 

The princess recognized the strain. A fluttering joy 
stole to her heart; she raised her head and listened; tears 
rushed to her eyes and streamed down her cheeks; her 
bosom rose and fell with a tumult of emotions. She would 
have asked for the minstrel to be brought into her pres- 
ence, but maiden coyness held her silent. The king read 
her wishes, and at his command Ahmed was conducted into 
the chamber. The lovers were discreet; they but ex- 
, changed glances, yet those glances spoke volumes. Never 
TV"as triumph of music more complete. The rose had re- 



164 THE ALHAMBRA. 

turned to the soft cheek of the princess, the freshness to 
her h}:), and the dewy hght to her languishmg eye. 

All the physicians present stared at one another with 
astonishment. The king regarded the Arab mmstrel with 
admiration mixed with awe. " Wonderful youth," ex- 
claimed he, " thou shalt henceforth be the first physician 
of my court, and no other prescription will I take but thy 
melody. For the present, receive thy reward, the most 
precious jewel in my treasury." 

" Oh, king," replied Ahmed, " I care not for silver, or 
gold, or precious stones. One relic hast thou in thy treas- 
ury, handed down from the Moslems who once owned 
Toledo. A box of sandal-wood containing a silken carpet. 
Give me that box, and I am content." 

All present were sui'prised at the moderation of the 
Arab; and still more, wlien the box of sandal-wood was 
brought and the carpet drawn forth. It was of fine green 
silk covered with Hebrew and Ohaldaic characters. The 
court physicians looked at one another, shrugged their 
shoulders, and smiled at the simplicity of this new prac- 
titioner, who could be content with so paltry a fee. 

" This carpet," said the prince, " once covered the 
throne of Solomon the Wise; it is worthy of being placed 
beneath the feet of beauty." 

So saying, he spread it on the terrace beneath an otto- 
man that had been brought forth for the princess; then 
seating himself at her feet : 

" Who," said he, " shall coimteract what is written in 
the book of fate? Behold the prediction of the astrologers 
verified. Know, oh, king, that your daughter and I have 
long loved each other in secret. Behold in me the pilgrim 
of love." 

These words were scarcely from his lips, when the carpet 
rose in the air, bearing off the prince and princess. The 
king and the physicians gazed after it with open mouths 
and straining eyes, until it became a little speck on the 
white bosom of a cloud, and then disappeared in the blue 
vault of heaven. 

The king, in a rage, summoned his treasurer. " How 
is this," said he, " that thou hast suffered an infidel to get 
possession of such a talisman?" 

" Alas! sire, we knew not its nature, nor could we de- 
cipher the inscription of the box. If it be indeed the car- 



THE ALHAMBRA. 165 

pet of the throne of the wise Solomon, it is possessed of 
magic power, and can transport its owner from place to 
place through the air/' 

The king assembled a mighty army, and set off for 
Granada in pm'suit of the fugitives. His march was long 
and toilsome. Encamping in the Vega, he sent a herald 
to demand restitution of his daughter. The king himself 
came forth with all his court to meet him. In the king he 
beheld the Arab minstrel, for Ahmed had succeeded to the 
throne on the death of his father, and the beautiful Alde- 
gonda was his sultana. 

The Christian king was easily pacified, when he found 
that his daughter was suffered to continue in her faith; not 
that he was particularly pious; but religion is always a 
point of pride and etiquette with princes. Instead of 
bloody battles, there was a succession of feasts and rejoic- 
ings; after which, the king returned, well pleased, to Toledo, 
and the youthful couple continued to reign as happily as 
wisely m the Alhambra. 

It is proper to add that the owl and the parrot had 
severally followed the prince by easy stages to Granada; the 
former traveling by night, and stopping at the various 
hereditary possessions of his family, the latter figuring in 
the gay circles of every town and city on his route. 

Ahmed gratefully requited the services which they had 
rendered him on his pilgrimage. He appointed the owl 
his prime minister, the parrot his master of ceremonies. 
It is needless to say that never was a realm more sagely 
administered, or a court conducted with more exact punc- 
tilio. 

THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE AL- 
HAMBRA; 

OR, 
THE PAGE AND THE GER-FALCON. 

For some time after the surrender of Granada by the 
Moors, that delightful city was a frequent and favorite 
residence of the Spanish sovereigns, mitil they were fright- 
ened away by successive shocks of earthquakes, which 
toppled down various houses and made the old Moslem 
towers rock to their foundation. 



1C6 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Many, many years then rolled away, during which 
Granada was rarely honored by a royal guest. The palaces 
of the nobility remained silent and shut up, and the 
Alhambra, like a slighted beauty, sat m mournful desola- 
tion among her neglected gardens. The Tower of the 
Infantas, once the residence of the three beautiful Moorish 
princesses, partook of the general desolation; and the spider 
spun her web athwart the gilded vault, and bats and owls 
nestled in those chambers that had been graced by the 
presence of Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda. The neglect 
of the tower may partly have been owing to some supersti- 
tious notions of the neighbors. It was rumored that the 
spirit of the youthful Zorahayda, who had perished in that 
tower, was often seen by moonlight, seated beside the 
fountain in the halls, or moaning about the battlements, 
and that the notes of her silver lute would be heard at mid- 
night by wayfarers passing along the glen. 

At length the city of Granada was once more enlivened 
by the royal presence. All the world knows that Philip V. 
was the first Bourbon that swayed the Spanish scepter. 
All the world knows that he married, in second nuptials, 
Elizabetta or Isabella (for they are the same), the beautiful 
Princess of Parma; and all the world knows that by this 
chain of contingencies a French prince and an Italian 
princess were seated together on the Spanish throne. For 
the reception of this illustrious pair, the Alhambra was re- 
paired and fitted up with all possible expedition. The 
arrival of the court changed the whole aspect of the lately 
deserted place. The clangor of drum and trumpet, the 
tramp of steed about the avenues and outer court, the glit- 
ter of arms and display of banners about barbican and bat- 
tlement, recalled the ancient and war-like glories of the 
fortress. A softer spirit, however, reigned within the royal 
palace. There was the rustling of robes, and the cautious 
tread and murmuring voice of reverential courtiers about 
the ante-chambers; a loitering of pages and maids of honor 
about the gardens, and the sound of music stealing from 
open casements. 

Among those who attended in the train of the monarchs 
was a favorite page of the queen, named Ruyz de Alarcon. 
To say that he was a favorite page of the queen, was at 
once to speak his eulogium, for every one in the suite of 
the stately Elizabetta was chosen for grace, and beauty, 



THE ALHAMBRA. 167 

and accomplishments. He was just turned eighteen, light 
and little of form, and graceful as a young Antinous. To 
the queen he was all deference and respect, yet he was at 
heart a roguish stripling, petted and spoiled by the ladies 
about the court, and experienced in the ways of women far 
beyond his years. 

This loitering page was one morning rambling about the 
groves of the Generalifie, which overlook the grounds of 
the Alhambra. He had taken with him for his amusement 
a favorite ger-falcon of the queen. In the course of his 
rambles, seeing a bird rising from a thicket, he unhooded 
the hawk and let him fly. The falcon towered high in the 
air, made a swoop at his quarry, but missing it, soared 
away regardless of the calls of the page. The latter fol- 
lowed the truant bird with his eye in its capricious flight, 
until he saw it alight upon the battlements of a remote and 
lonely tower, in the outer wall of the Alhambra, built on 
the edge of a ravine that separated the royal fortress from 
the grounds of the Generalifle. It was, in fact, the Tower 
of the Princesses. 

The page descended into the ravine, and approached the 
tower, but it had no entrance from the glen, and its lofty 
height rendered any attempt to scale it fruitless. Seeking 
one of the gates of the fortress, therefore, he made a wide 
circuit to that side of the tower facing within the walls. A 
small garden inclosed by a trellis-work of reeds overhung 
with myrtle lay before the tower. Opening a wicket, the 
page passed between beds of flowers and thickets of roses 
to the door. It was closed and bolted. A crevice in the 
door gave him a peep mto the interior. There was a small 
Moorish hall with fretted walls, light marble columns, and 
an alabaster fountain surrounded with flowers. In the 
center hung a gilt cage containing a singing-bird; beneath 
it, on a chair, lay a tortoise-shell cat among reels of silk and 
other articles of female labor, and a guitar, decorated with 
ribbons, leaned against the foimtain. 

Ruyz de Alarcon was struck with these traces of female 
taste and elegance in a lonely, and, as he had supposed, 
deserted tower. They reminded him of the tales of en- 
chanted halls current in the Alhambra; and the tortoise- 
shell cat might be some spell-bound princess. 

He knocked gently at the door — a beautiful face peeped 
out from a little window above, but was instantly with- 



168 THE ALHAMBRA. 

drawn. He waited, expecting that the door would be 
opened; but he waited in vain; no footstep was to be heard 
within; all was silent. Had his senses deceived him, or was 
this beautiful apparition the fairy of the tower? He 
knocked again, and more loudly. After a little while the 
beaming face once more peeped forth; it was that of a 
blooming damsel of fifteen. 

The page immediately doffed his plumed bonnet, and 
entreated in the most courteous accents to be permitted to 
ascend the tower in pursuit of his falcon. 

" I dare not open the door, senor,^^ replied the little 
damsel, blushing; " my aunt has forbidden it.'^ 

" I do beseech you, fair maid; it is the favorite falcon of 
the queen; I dare not return to the palace without it." 

" Are you, then, one of the cavaliers of the court?" 

" I am, fair maid; but I shall lose the queen^s favor and 
my place if I lose this hawk." 

" Santa Maria! It is against you cavaliers of the court 
that my amit has charged me especially to bar the door." 

" Against wicked cavaliers, doubtless; but I am none of 
those, but a simple, harmless page, who will be ruined and 
undone if you deny me this small request." 

The heart of the little damsel was touched by the dis- 
tress of the page. It was a thousand pities he should be 
ruined for the want of so trifling a boon. Surely, too, he 
could not be one of those dangerous beings whom her aimt 
had described as a species of cannibal, ever on the prowl to 
make prey of thoughtless damsels; he was gentle and 
modest, and stood so entreatingly with cap in hand, and 
looked so charming. The sly page saw that the garrison 
began to waver, and redoubled his entreaties in such mov- 
ing terms, that it was not in the nature of mortal maiden 
to deny him; so, the blushing little warder of the tower de- 
scended and opened the door with a trembling hand; and 
if the page had been charmed by a mere glimpse of her 
countenance from the window, he was ravished by the full- 
length portrait now revealed to him. 

Her Andalusian bodice and trim busquina set off the 
round but delicate symmetry of her form, which was as yet 
scarce verging into womanhood. Her glossy hair was 
parted on her forehead with scrupulous exactness, and 
decorated with a fresh-plucked rose, according to the uni- 
versal custom of the country. 



THE ALHAMBEA. 169 

It is true, her complexion was tinged by the ardor of a 
southern sun, but it served to give richness to the mantling 
bloom of her cheek, and to heighten the luster of her melt- 
ing eyes. 

Ruyz de Alarcon beheld all this with a single glance, for 
it became him not to tarry; he merely murmured his 
acknowledgments, and then bounded lightly up the spiral 
staircase in quest of his falcon. He soon returned with the 
truant bird upon his fist. The damsel, m the meantime, 
had seated herself by the fountain in the hall, and was 
winding silk; but in her agitation she let fall the reel upon 
the pavement. The page sprung, picked it up, then drop- 
ping gracefully on one knee, presented it to her, but, 
seizing the hand extended to receive it, imprinted on it a 
kiss more fervent and devout than he had ever imprinted 
on the fair hand of his sovereign. 

" Ave Maria, senor!'^ exclaimed the damsel, blushing 
still deeper with confusion and surprise, for never before 
had she received such a salutation. 

The modest page made a thousand apologies, assuring 
her it was the way, at court, of expressing the most pro- 
found homage and respect. 

Her anger, if anger she felt, was easily pacified; but her 
agitation and embarrassment continued, and she sat blush- 
ing deeper and deeper, with her eyes cast down upon her 
work, entangling the silk which she attempted to wind. 

The cunning page saw the confusion in the opposite 
camp, and would fain have profited by it, but the fine 
speeches he would have uttered died upon his lips; his 
attempts at gallantry were awkward and ineffectual; and, 
to his surprise, the adroit page who had figured with such 
grace and effrontery among the most knowing and experi- 
enced ladies of the court, found himself awed and abashed 
in the presence of a simple damsel of fifteen. 

In fact, the artless maiden, in her own modesty and in- 
nocence, had guardians more effectual than the bolts and 
bars prescribed by her vigilant aunt. Still, where is the 
female bosom proof against the first whisperings of love? 
The little damsel, with all her artlessness, instinctively 
comprehended all that the faltering tongue of the page 
failed to express, and her heart was fluttered at beholding, 
for the first time, a lover at her feet — and such a lover! 

The diffidence of the page, though genuine, was short- 



170 THE ALHAMBRA. 

lived, and he was recovering his usual ease and confidence, 
when a shrill voice was heard at a distance. 

" My aunt is returnhig from mass!'' cried the damsel, in 
affright. " I pray you, senor, depart.'' 

" Not until you grant me that rose from your hair as a 
remembrance." 

vShe hastily untwisted the rose from her raven lockSc 
"Take it," cried she, agitated and blusliing, "but pray 
be gone!" 

The page took the rose, and at the same time covered 
with kisses the fair hand that gave it. Then, placing the 
flower in his bonnet, and taking the falcon upon his fist, 
he boimded off through the garden, bearing away with him 
the heart of the gentle Jacinta. 

When the vigilant aunt arrived at the tower, she re- 
marked the agitation of her niece, and an air of confusion 
in the hall; but a word of explanation sufficed. " A ger- 
falcon had pursued his prey into the hall." 

" Mercy on us! To think of a falcon flying into the 
tower! Did ever one hear of so saucy a hawk? Why, the 
very bird in the cage is not safe." 

The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary of 
ancient spinsters. (She had a becoming terror and distrust 
of what she denominated " the opposite sex," which had 
gradually increased through a long life of celibacy. Not 
that the good lady had ever suffered from their wiles; 
nature having set up a safeguard in her face that forbid 
all trespass upon her premises; but ladies who have least 
cause to fear for themselves are most ready to keep a watch 
over their more tempting neighbors. The niece was the 
orphan of an officer who had fallen in the wars. She had 
been educated in a convent, and had recently been trans- 
ferred from her sacred asylum to the immediate guardian- 
ship of her aunt, under whose overshadowing care she 
vegetated in obscurity, like an opening rose blooming 
beneath a brier. Nor, indeed, is this comparison entirely 
accidental, for to tell the truth, her fresh and dawning 
beauty had caught the public eye, even in her seclusion, 
and, with that poetical turn common to the people of 
Andalusia, the peasantry of the neighborhood had given 
her the appellation of " The Rose of the Alhambra." 

The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful watch over 
her tempting little niece as long as the court continued at 



THE ALHAMBRA. 171 

Granada, and flattered herself that her vigilance had been 
successful. It is true, the good lady was now and then dis- 
composed by the tmkling of guitars, and chanting of love 
ditties from the moonlit groves beneath the tower, but she 
would exhort her niece to shut her ears against such idle 
minstrelsy, assuring her that it was one of the arts of the 
opposite sex, by which simple maids were often lured to 
their undoing. Alas! what chance with a simple maid has 
a dry lecture agamst a moonlight serenade! 

At length King Philip cut short his sojourn at Granada, 
and suddenly departed with all his train. The vigilant 
Fredegonda watched the royal pageant as it issued forth 
from the Gate of Justice and descended the great avenue 
leading to the city. When the last banner disappeared 
from her sight, she returned exulting to her tower, for all 
her cares were over. To li^r surprise, a light Arabian 
steed pawed the ground at the wicket-gate of the garden — 
to her horror, she saw through the thickets of roses a 
youth, in gayly embroidered dress, at the feet of her niece. 
At the sound of her footsteps he gave a tender adieu, 
bounded lightly over the barrier of reeds and myrtles, 
sprung upon his horse, and was out of sight in an instant. 

The tender Jacinta, in the agony of her grief, lost all 
thought of her aunt's displeasure. Throwing herself into 
her arms, she broke forth mto sobs and tears. 

'^Aydimi!"' cried she, "he is gone! he is gone! and 
I shall never see him more.'' 

" Gone! who is gone? what youth is this I saw at your 
feet?" 

" A queen's page, aunt, who came to bid me farewell." 

"A queen's page, child!" echoed the vigilant Frede- 
gonda, faintly; '' and when did you become acquainted 
with a queen's page?" 

" The morning that the ger-falcon flew into the tower. 
It was the queen's ger-falcon, and he came in pursuit of 
it." 

'^ Ah, silly, silly girl! know that there are no ger-falcons 
half so dangerous as these prankling pages, and it is pre- 
cisely such simple birds as thee that they pounce upon." 

The aunt was at first indignant at learning that, in de- 
spite of her boasted vigilance, a tender intercourse had been 
carried on by the youthful lovers, almost beneath her eye; 
but when she found that her simple-hearted niece, though 



172 THE ALHAMBKA. 

thus exposed;, without the protection of bolt or bar, to all 
the machinations of the opposite sex, had come forth un- 
singed from the fiery ordeal, she consoled herself with the 
persuasion that it was owing to the chaste and cautious 
maxims in which she had, as it were, steeped her to the 
very lips. 

While the aunt laid this soothing unction to her pride, 
the niece treasured up the oft-repeated vows of fidelity of 
the page. But what is the love of restless, roving man? a 
vagrant stream that dallies for a time with each flower 
upon its banks, then passes on and leaves them all in tears. 

Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing more was 
heard of the page. The pomegranate ripened, the vine 
yielded up its fruit, the autumnal rains descended in tor- 
rents from the mountains; the Sierra Nevada became cov- 
ered with a snowy mantle, and wintery blasts howled 
through the halls of the Alhambra; still he came not. 
The winter passed away. Again the genial spring burst 
forth with song, and blossoms, and balmy zephyr; the 
snows melted from the mountains, until none remained 
but on the lofty summit of the Nevada, glistenuig through 
the sultry summer air; still nothing was heard of the for- 
getful page. 

In the meantime, the poor little Jacinta grew pale and 
thoughtful. Her former occupations and amusements 
were abandoned, her silk lay entangled, her guitar un- 
strmig, her flowers were neglected, the notes of her bird 
unheeded, and her eyes, once so bright, were dimmed with 
secret weeping. If any solitude could be devised to foster 
the passion of a love-lorn damsel, it would be such a place 
as the Alhambra, where everything seems disposed to pro- 
duce tender and romantic reveries. It is a very paraxiise 
for lovers; how hard, then, to be alone in such a paradise, 
and not merely alone, but forsaken! 

*' Alas! silly child, ^^ would the staid and immaculate 
Fredegonda say, when she found her niece in one of her 
desponding moods, ' ' did I not warn thee against the wiles 
and deceptions of these men? What could st thou expect, 
too, from one of a haughty and aspiring family, thou, an 
orphan, the descendant of a fallen and impoverished line; 
be assured, if the youth were true, his father, who is one of 
the proudest nobles about the court, would prohibit his 
union with one so humble and portionless as thou. Pluck 



'the alhambra. 173 

up thy resolution, therefore, and drive these idle notions 
from thy mind/^ 

The words of the immaculate Fredegonda only served to 
increase the melancholy of her niece, but she sought to in- 
dulge it in private. At a late hour one midsummer night, 
after her amit had retired to rest, she remained alone in 
the hall of the tower, seated beside the alabaster fountain. 
It was here that the faithless page had first knelt and kissed 
her hand; it was here that he had often vowed eternal 
fidelity. The poor little damseFs heart was overladen with 
sad and tender recollections, her tears began to flow, and 
slowly fell, drop by drop, into the fomitain. By degrees 
the crystal water became agitated, and, bubble — bubble — 
bubble, boiled up, and was tossed about until a female fig- 
ure, richly clad in Moorish robes, slowly rose to view. 

Jacinta was so frightened that she fled f -om the hall, 
and did not venture to return. The next morr.ing she re- 
lated what she had seen to her amit, but the good lady 
treated it as a fantasy of her troubled mind, or supposed 
she had fallen asleep and dreamed beside the fountain. 
" Thou hast been thinking of the story of the three Moor- 
ish princesses that once inhabited the tower/ ^ continued 
she, '' and it has entered into thy dreams.^' 

" What story, aunt? I know nothing of it.^' 

" Thou hast certainly heard of the three princesses, 
Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda, who were confined in this 
tower by the king, their father, and agreed to fly with 
three Christian cavaliers. The first two accomplished their 
escape, but the third failed in resolution and remained, 
and, it is said, died in this tower." 

" I now recollect to have heard of it," said Jacinta^ 
*' and to have wept over the fate of the gentle Zorahayda." 

" Thou mayst well weep over her fate," continued the 
aunt, '' for the lover of Zorahayda was thy ancestor. He 
long bemoaned his Moorjsh love, but time cured him of his 
grief, and he married a Spanish lady, from whom thou art 
descended." 

Jacinta ruminated upon these words. " That what I 
have seen is no fantasy of the brain," said she to herself, 
" I am confident. If indeed it be the sprite of the gentle 
Zorahayda, which I have heard lingers about this tower, of 
what should I be afraid? 1^11 watch by the fountain to- 
night; perhaps the visit will be repeated." 



174: THE ALHAMBEA. 

Toward midnight^ when everything was quiet, she agaii^ 
took her seat in the hall. As the bell on the distant watch- 
tower of the Alhambra struck the midnight hour, the 
fountain was again agitated, and bubble — bubble — bubble, 
it tossed about the waters until the Moorish female agahi 
rose to view. She was young and beautiful; her dress was 
rich with jewels, and in her hand she held a silver lute. 
Jacinta trembled and was famt, but was reassured by the 
soft and plaintive voice of the apparition, and the sweet 
expression of her pale, melancholy countenance. 

" Daughter of Mortality, ^^ said she, " what aileth thee? 
Why do thy tears trouble my fountain, and thy sighs and 
plaints disturb the quiet watches of the night ?'^ 

'' I weep because of the faithlessness of man, and I be- 
moan my solitary and forsaken state. ^^ 

" Take comfort; thy sorrows may yet have an end. 
Thou beholdest a Moorish princess, who, like thee, was 
unhajDpy in her love. A Christian knight, thy ancestor, 
won my heart, and would have borne me to Ms native land 
and to the bosom of his Church. I was a convert in my 
heart, but I lacked courage equal to my faith, and lingered 
till too late. For this, the evil genii are permitted to have 
power over me, and I remain enchanted in this tower, until 
some pure Christian will deign to break the magic sj^ell. 
"Wilt thou imdertake the task?'' 

" I will!'' replied the damsel, trembling. 

^' Come hither, then, and fear not; dip thy hand in the 
fountain, sprinkle the water over me, and baptize me after 
the manner of thy faith; so shall the enchantment be dis- 
pelled, and my troubled spirit have repose." 

The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipj^ed her 
hand in the fountain, collected water in the palm, and 
sprinkled it over the pale face of the phantom. 

The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She dropped 
her silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her white 
arms upon her bosom, and melted from sight, so that it 
seemed merely as if a shower of dew-drops had fallen into 
the fountain. 

Jacinta retired from the hall, filled with awe and wonder. 
She scarcely closed her eyes that night, but when she 
awoke at day -break out of a troubled slumber, the whole 
appeared to her like a distemj^cred dream. On descending 
into the hall, however^ the truth of the vision was estab- 



THE ALHAMBRA. 175 

lished; for beside the fountain she beheld the silver lute 
glittering in the morning sunshine. 

She hastened to her aunt, related all that had befallen 
her, and called her to behold the lute as a testimonial of 
the reality of her story. If the good lady had any linger- 
ing doubts, they were removed when Jacinta touched the 
instrument, for she drew forth such ravishing tones as to 
thaw even the frigid bosom of the immaculate Fredegonda, 
that region of eternal winter, into a genial flow. Nothing 
but supernatural melody could have produced such an 
effect. 

The extraordinary power of the lute became every day 
more and more apparent. The wayfarer passing by the 
tower was detained, and, as it were, spell-bound, in breath- 
less ecstasy. The very birds gathered in the neighboring 
trees, and, hushing their own strains, listened in charmed 
silence. Rumor soon spread the news abroad. The in- 
habitants of Granada thronged to the Alhambra, to catch 
a few notes of the transcendent music that floated about 
the Tower of Las Infantas. 

The lovely little minstrel was at length drawn forth from 
her retreat. The rich and powerful of the land contended 
who should entertain and do honor to her; or, rather, who 
sliould secure the charms of her lute, to draw fashionable 
throngs to their saloons. Wherever she went, her vigilant 
aunt kept a dragon-watch at her elbow, awing the throngs 
of impassioned admirers who hung in raptures on her 
strains. The report of her wonderful powers spread from 
city to city— Malaga, Seville, Cordova, all became succes- 
sively mad on the theme; nothing was talked of throughout 
Andalusia but the beautiful minstrel of the Alhambra. 
How could it be otherwise among a people so musical and 
gallant as the Andalusians, when the lute was magical in 
its powers, and the minstrel inspired by love. 

While all Andalusia was thus music-mad, a different 
mood prevailed at the Court of Spain. Philip V., as is 
well known, was a miserable hypochondriac, and subject to 
all kinds of fancies. Sometimes he would keep to his bed 
for weeks together, groaning under imaginary complaints. 
At other times he would insist upon abdicating his throne, 
to the great annoyance of his royal spouse, who had a 
strong relish for the splendors of a court and the glories of 



176 THE ALHAMBRA. 

a cro^^n, and guided the scepter of her imbecile lord with 
an expert and steady hand. 

Nothing was found to be so efficacious in dispelhng the 
ro3^al megrims as the powers of music. The queen took care, 
therefore, to have the best performers, both vocal and in- 
strumental, at hand, and retained the famous Italian 
singer, Farinelli, about the court as a kind of royal 
physician. 

At the moment we treat of, however, a freak had come 
over the mind of this sapient and illustrious Bourbon, that 
surpassed all former vagaries. After a long spell of 
imaginary illness, which set all the strains of Farinelli, and 
the consultations of a whole orchestra of court fiddlers, at 
defiance, the monarch fairly, in idea, gave up the ghost, 
and considered himself absolutely dead. 

This would have been harmless enough, and even con- 
venient both to his queen and courtiers, had he been con- 
tent to remain in the quietude befitting a dead man; but, 
to their annoyance, he insisted upon having the funeral 
ceremonies performed over him, and, to their uiexpressible 
perplexity, began to grow impatient, and to revile bitterly 
at them for negligence and disrespect in leaving him un- 
buried. What was to be done? To disobey the king's 
positive commands was monstrous in the eyes of the obse- 
quious courtiers of a punctilious court — ^but to obey him, 
and bury liim alive, would be downright regicide ! 

In the midst of this fearful dilemma, a rumor reached 
the court of the female minstrel, who was turning the 
brains of all Andalusia. The queen dispatched missives in 
all haste to summon her to St. Ildefonso, where the court 
at that time resided. 

Within a few days, as the queen, with her maids of 
honor, was walking in those stately gardens, mtended, with 
their avenues, and terraces, and fountains, to eclipse the 
glories of Versailles, the far-famed minstrel was conducted 
into her presence. The imperial Elizabetta gazed with 
surprise at the youthful and unpretending appearance of 
the little being that had set the world madding. She was 
in her picturesque Andalusian dress; her silver lute was in 
her hand, and she stood with modest and downcast^ eyes, 
but with a simplicity and freshness of beauty that still be- 
spoke her " The Eose of the Alhambra.'^ 

As usual, she was accompanied by the ever-vigilant 



THE ALHAMBKA. 177 

Fredegonda^, who gave the whole history of her parentage 
and descent to the inquiring queen. If the stately Eliza- 
betta had been interested by the appearance of Jacinta, she 
was still more pleased when she learned that she was of a 
meritorious, though impoverished line, and that her father 
had bravely fallen in the service of the crown. '' If thy 
powers equal their renown/' said she, "and thou canst 
cast forth this evil spirit that possesses thy sovereign, thy 
fortune shall henceforth be my care, and honors and wealth 
attend thee.^^ 

Impatient to make trial of her skill, she led the way at 
once to the apartment of the moody monarch. Jacinta 
followed with downcast eyes through files of guards and 
crowds of courtiers. They arrived at length at a great 
chamber hung in black. The windows were closed, to 
exclude the light of day; a number of yellow wax- tapers, 
in silver sconces, diffused a lugubrious light, and dimly re- 
vealed the figures of mutes in mourning-dresses, and 
courtiers, who glided about with noiseless step and woe- 
begone visage. On the midst of a funeral bed or bier, his 
hands folded on his breast, and the tip of his nose just 
visible, lay extended this would-be buried monarch. 

The queen entered the chamber in silence, and, pointing 
to a foot-stool in an obscure corner, beckoned to Jacinta to 
sit down and commence. 

At first she touched her lute with a faltering hand, but 
gathering confidence and animation as she proceeded, drew 
forth such soft, asrial harmony, that all present could scarce 
believe it mortal. As to the monarch, who had already 
considered himself in the world of spirits, he set it down 
for some angelic melody, or the music of the spheres. By 
degrees the theme was varied, and the voice of the minstrel 
accompanied the instrument. She poured forth one of the 
legendary ballads treating of the ancient glories of the 
Alhambra and the achievements of the Moors. Her 
whole soul entered into the theme, for with the recollec- 
tions of the Alhambra was associated the story of her love; 
the funereal chamber resounded with the animating strain. 
It entered into the gloomy heart of the monarch. He 
raised his head and gazed around; he sat up on his couch; 
his eye began to kindle; at length, leaping upon the floor, 
he called for sword and buckler. 

The triumph of music, or, rather, of the enchanted lute. 



178 THE ALHAMBEA. 

was complete; the demon of melancholy was cast forth, 
and, as it were, a dead man brought to life. The windows 
of the apartment were thrown open; the glorious effulgence 
of Spanish sunshine burst into the late lugubrious cham- 
ber; all eyes sought the lovely enchantress, but the lute 
had fallen from her hand; she had sunk upon the earth, 
and the next moment was clasped to the bosom of Ruyz de 
Alarcon. 

The nuptials of the happy couple were shortly after cele- 
brated with great splendor — but hold, I hear the reader ask 
how did Ruyz de Alarcon account for his long neglect? 
Oh! that was all owing to the opposition of a proud, prag- 
matical old father; besides, yomig people who really like 
one another soon come to an amicable understanding, and 
bury all past grievances whenever they meet. 

But how was the proud, pragmatical old father reconciled 
to the match? 

Oh, his scruples were easily overruled by a word or two 
from the queen — especially as dignities and rewards were 
showered upon the blooming favorite of royalty. Besides, 
the lute of Jacinta, you know, possessed a magic power, 
and could control the most stubborn head and hardest 
heart. 

And what became of the enchanted lute? 

Oh, that is the most curious matter of all, and plainly 
proves the truth of all ihe story. That lute remained for 
some time in the family, but was purloined and carried off, 
as was supposed, by the great singer, Farinelli, in pure 
jealousy. At his death it passed into other hands in Italy, 
who were ignorant of its mystic powers, and melting down 
the silver, transferred the strings to an old Cremona fiddle. 
The strings still retain sometliing of their magic virtues. 
A word in the reader's ear, but let it go no further — that 
fiddle is now bewitchiDg the whole world — ^it is the fiddle 
of Paganini! 



THE VETERAN. 

Amokg the curious acquaintances I have made in my 
rambles about the fortress is a brave and battered old 
colonel of Invalids, who is nestled like a hawk in one of the 
Moorish towers. His history, which he is fond of telling, 
is a tissue of those adventures, mishaps, and vicissitudes that 



THE ALHAMBKA. 179 

render the life of almost every Spaniard of note as varied 
and whimsical as the pages of Gil Bias. 

He was in America at twelve j-ears of age, and reckons 
among the most signal and fortunate events of his life his 
having seen General Washington. Since then he has taken 
a part in all the wars of his country; he can speak experi- 
mentally of most of the prisons and dungeons of the Penin- 
sula, has been lamed of one leg, crippled in his hand, and 
so cut up and carbonadoed, that he is a kind of walking 
monument of the troubles of Spain, on which there is a 
scar for every battle and broil, as every year was notched 
upon the tree of Robinson Crusoe. The greatest misfort- 
une of the brave old cavalier, however, ajjpears to have 
been his having commanded at Malaga during a time of 
peril and confusion, and been made a general by the inhab- 
itants to protect them from the invasion of the French. 

This has entailed upon him a number of just claims 
upon government that I fear will employ him until his 
dying day in writing and printing petitions and memorials, 
to the great disquiet of his mind, exhaustion of his purse, 
and penance of his friends, not one of whom can visit him 
without having to listen to a mortal document of half an 
hour in length, and to carry away half a dozen pamphlets 
in his pocket. This, however, is the case throughout 
Spain; everywhere you meet with some worthy wight 
brooding in a corner, and nursing up some pet grievance 
and cherished wrong. Besides, a Spaniard who has a law- 
suit, or a claim upon government, may be considered as 
furnished with employment for the remainder of his life. 

I visited the veteran in his quarters in the upper part of 
the Terre del Yino, or Wine Tower. His room was small 
but snug, and commanded a beautiful view of the Vega. 
It was arranged with a soldiery's precision. Three muskets 
and a brace of pistols, all bright and shining, were sus- 
pended against the wall, with a saber and a cane hanging 
side by side, and above these two cocked hats, one for 
parade and one for ordinary use. A small shelf, contain- 
ing some half dozen books, formed his library, one of 
which, a little old moldy volume of philosophical maxims, 
was his favorite reading. This he thumbed and pondered 
over day by day, applying every maxim to his own particu- 
lar case, provided it had a little tinge of wholesome bitter- 
ness, and treated of the injustice of the world. 



180 THE ALHAMBEA. 

Yet he is social and kind-hearted, and, provided he can 
be diverted from his wrongs and his philosophy, is an en- 
tertaining companion. I like these old weather-beaten 
sons of fortune, and enjoy their rough campaigning anec- 
dotes. In the course of my visit to the one in question, I 
learned some curious facts about an old military com- 
mander of the fortress, who seems to have resembled him 
in some respects, and to have had similar fortunes in the 
waa'S. These particulars have been augmented by inquiries 
among some of the old inhabitants of the place, particularly 
the father of Mateo Ximenes, of whose traditional stories 
the worthy I am about to introduce to the reader is a fav- 
orite hero. 



THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY. 

In former times there ruled, as governor of the Alham- 
bra, a doughty old cavalier, who, from having lost one 
arm in the wars, was commonly known by the name of El 
Gobernador Manco, or the One-armed Governor. He, in 
fact, prided himself upon being an old soldier, wore his 
mustachios curled up to his e3^es, a pair of campaigning 
boots, and a toledo as long as a spit, with his pocket-hand- 
kerchief in the basket-hilt. 

He was, moreover, exceedingly proud and punctilious, 
and tenacious of all his privileges and dignities Under his 
sway, the immunities of the Alhambra, as a royal residence 
and domain, were rigidly exacted. No one was permitted 
to enter the fortress with fire-arms, or even with a sword 
or staff, unless he were of a certain rank, and every horse- 
man was obliged to dismount at the gate and lead his horse 
by the bridle. Now, as the hill of the Alhambra rises 
from the very midst of the city of Granada, bemg, as it 
were, an excrescence of the capital, it must at all times be 
somewhat irksome to the captain-general who commands 
the province to have thus an imporium m imperio, a petty 
independent post, in the very core of his domains. It was 
rendered the more galling in the present instance, from 
the irritable jealousy of the old governor, that took fire or 
the least question of authority and jm-isdiction, and frorn 
the loose, vagrant character of the people that had gradu- 
ally nestled themselves within the fortress as in a sanctuary, 
and from thence carried on a system of roguery and /V^»re- 



THE ALHAMBRA. 181 

dation at the expense of the honest inhabitants of the city. 
Thus there was a perpetual feud and heart-burning between 
the captain-general and the governor; the more virident on 
the part of the latter, inasmuch as the smallest of two 
neighbormg potentates is always the most captious about 
his dignity. The stately palace of the captain-general 
stood in the Plaza Nueva, immediately at the foot of the 
hill of the Alhambra, and here was always a bustle and 
parade of guards, and domestics, and city functionaries. 
A beetling bastion of the fortress overlooked the palace and 
the public square in front of it; and on this bastion the old 
governor would occasionally strut backward and forward, 
with his Toledo girded by his side, keeping a wary eye down 
upon his rival, like a hawk reconnoitering his quarry from 
his nest in a dry tree. 

Whenever he descended into the city, it was in grand 
parade, on horseback, surrounded by his guards^ or in his 
state coach, an ancient and miwieldy Spanish edifice of 
carved timber and gilt leather, drawn by eight mules, with 
running footmen, outriders, and lackeys, on which occa- 
sions he flattered himself he impressed every beholder with 
awe and admiration as vice-regent of the king, though the 
wits of Granada, particularly those who loitered about the 
palace of the captain-general, were apt to sneer at his petty 
parade, and, in allusion to the vagrant character of his sub- 
jects, to greet him with the appellation of the " king of the 
beggars. ^^ 

One of the most fruitful sources of dispute between these 
two doughty rivals was the right claimed by the governor 
to have all things passed free of duty through the city 
that were intended for the use of himself or his garrison. 
By degrees, this privilege had given rise to extensive smug- 
gling. A nest of contrabandistas took up their abode in 
the hovels of the fortress and the numerous caves in its 
vicinity, and drove a thriving business mider the conniv- 
ance of the soldiers of the garrison. 

The vigilance of the captain -general was aroused. He 
consulted his legal adviser and factotum, a shrewd, meddle- 
some Escribano, or notary, who rejoiced in an opportunity 
of perplexing the old potentate of the Alhambra, and in- 
volving him in a maze of legal subtilities. He advised the 
captain-general to insist upon the right of examining every 
convoy passing through the gates of his city, and he penned 



182 THE ALHAMBRA. 

a long letter for him, in vindication of the right. Governor 
Manco was a straightforward, cut-and-tlirust old soldier, 
who hated an Escribano worse than the devil, and this one 
in particular, worse than all other Escribanoes. 

" What!" said he, curling up his mustacliios fiercely, 
" does the captam-general set his man of the pen to prac- 
tice confusions upon me? 1^11 let him see that an old 
soldier is not to be baffled by Schoolcraft." 

He seized his pen, and scrawled a short letter in a 
crabbed hand, in wliich, without deigrnng to enter into 
argument, he insisted on the right of transit free of search, 
and denounced vengeance on any custom-house officer who 
should lay his mihallowed hand on any convoy protected 
by the flag of the Alhambra. 

While this question was agitated between the two prag- 
matical potentates, it so happened that a mule laden with 
supplies for the fortress arrived one day at the gate of 
Xenil, by which it was to traverse a suburb of the city on 
its way to the Alhambra. The convoy was headed by a 
testy old corporal, who had long served under the governor, 
and was a man after his own heart; as trusty and stanch 
as an old Toledo blade. As they approached the gate of 
the city, the corporal placed the banner of the Alhambra 
on the pack-saddle of the mule, and drawing himself up to 
a perfect perpendicular, advanced with his head dressed to 
the front, but with the wary side-glance of a cur passing 
through hostile grounds, and ready for a snap and a snarl. 

" Who goes there?" said the sentinel at the gate. 

" Soldier of the Alhambra," said the corporal, without 
turning his head. 

" What have you in charge?" 

'^ Provisions for the garrison.''^ 

'^Proceed." 

The corporal marched straight forward, followed by the 
convoy, but had not advanced many paces, before a posse 
of custom-house officers rushed out of a small toll-house. 

" Halloo, there!" cried the leader. " Muleteer, halt and 
open those packages. " 

The corporal wheeled round, and drew himself up in 
battle array. " Eespect the flag of the Alhambra," said 
he; " these things are for the governor." 

'^ A flg for the- governor, and a fig for his flag. Mule- 
teer, halt, I say." 



THE ALHAMBRA. 183 

^' Stop the convoy at your peril!'' cried the corporal, 
cocking his musket. " Muleteer, proceed/' 

The muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack, the 
custom-house officer sprung forward, and seized the halter; 
whereupon the corporal leveled his piece and shot him dead. 

The street was immediately in an uproar. The old cor- 
poral was seized, and after undergoing smidry kicks, and 
cuffs, and cudgelings, which are generally given im- 
promptu, by the mob in Sjjain, as a foretaste of the after 
penalties of the law, he was loaded with irons and conduct- 
ed to the city prison, while his comrades were permitted to 
proceed with the convoy, after it had been well rummaged, 
to the Alhambra. 

The old governor was in a towering passion, when he 
heard of this insult to his flag and capture of his corporal. 
For a time he stormed about the Moorish halls, and vapored 
about the bastions, and looked down fire and sword upon 
the palace of the captain-general. Having vented the first 
ebullition of his wrath, he dispatched a message demanding 
the surrender of the corporal, as to him alone belonged the 
right of sitting in judgment on the offenses of those under 
his command. The captain-general, aided by the pen of 
the delighted Escribano, replied at great length, arguing 
that as the offense had been committed within the walls of 
his city, and against one of his civil officers, it was clearly 
within his proper jurisdiction. The governor rejoined by 
a repetition of his demand; the captain-general gave a sur- 
rejoinder of still greater length and legal acumen; the 
governor became hotter and more peremptory in his de- 
mands, and the captain-general cooler and more copious in 
his replies; mitil the old lion-hearted soldier absolutely 
roared with fury at being thus entangled in the meshes of 
legal controversy. 

AVhile the subtle Escribano was thus amusing himself at 
the expense of the governor, he was conducting the trial of 
the corporal, who, mewed up in a narrow dungeon of the 
prison, had merely a small grated window at which to show 
his iron-bound visage and receive the consolations of his 
friends; a mountain of written testimony was diligently 
heaped up, according to Spanish form, by the indefatigable 
Escribano; the corporal was completely overwhelmed by it. 
He was convicted of murder, and sentenced to be hanged. 

It was in vain the governor sent down remonstrance and 



184 THE ALHAMBRA. 

menace from the Alhambra. Tlie fatal day was at hand, 
and the corporal was put in capilla, that is to say, in the 
chapel of the prison, as is always done with culprits the 
day before execution, that they may meditate on their ap- 
proaching end, and repent them of their sins. 

Seeing things drawing to an extremity, the old governor 
determined to attend to the affair in person. For this pur- 
pose he ordered out his carriage of state, and, surrounded 
by his guards, rumbled down the avenue of the Alhambra 
into the city. Driving to the house of the Escribano, he 
summoned him to the portal. 

The eye of the old governor gleamed like a coal at be- 
holding the smirking man of the law advancing with an air 
of exultation. 

^' What is this I hear," cried he, ^' that you are about 
to put to death one of my soldiers?'' 

"All according to law — all in strict form of justice," 
said the self-sufficient Escribano, chuckling and rubbing 
his hands. " I can show your excellency the written testi- 
mony in the case." 

" Fetch it hither," said the governor. 

The Escribano bustled into his office, delighted with hav- 
ing another opportunity of displaying his ingenuity at the 
expense of the hard-headed veteran. He returned with a 
satchel full of papers, and began to read a long deposition 
with professional volubility. By this time a crowd had col- 
lected, listening with outstretched necks and gaping 
mouths. 

" Prithee, man, get into the carriage out of this pestilent 
throng, that I may the better hear thee," said the governor. 

The Escribano entered the carriage, when, in a twinkling, 
the door was closed, the coachman smacked his whip, 
mules, carriage, guards, and all dashed off at a thundering 
rate, leaving the crowd in gaping wonderment, nor did the 
governor pause until he had lodged his prey in one of the 
strongest dungeons of the Alhambra. 

He then sent down a flag of truce in military style, pro- 
posing a cartel or exchange of prisoners, the corporal for 
the notary. The pride of the captain-general was piqued; 
he returned a contemptuous refusal, and forthwith caused 
a gallows, tall and strong, to be erected in the center of the 
Plaza Nueva, for the execution of the corporal. 

" Oh, ho! is that the game?'- said Governor Manco. He 



THE ALHAMBEA. 185 

gave orders, and immediately a gibbet was reared ou the 
verge of the great beethng bastion that overlooked the 
plaza. " Now/' said he, in a message to the captain- 
general, '' hang my soldier when you please; but at the 
same time that he is swung off in the square, look up to 
see your Escribano dangling agamst the sky/' 

The captain-general was inflexible; troops were paraded 
in the square; the drums beat; the bell tolled; an immense 
multitude of amateurs had collected to behold the execu- 
tion; on the other hand, the governor paraded his garrison 
on the bastion, and tolled the f imeral dirge of the notary 
from the Torre de la Campana, or Tower of the Bell. 

The notary's wife j)ressed through the crowd with a 
whole progeny of little embryo Escribanoes at her heels, 
and throwing herself at the feet of the captain-general, im- 
plored him not to sacrifice the life of her husband, and the 
welfare of herself and her numerous little ones to a point of 
pride; " for you know the old governor too well,'' said she, 
*' to doubt that he will put his threat in execution if yon 
hang the soldier." 

The captain-general was overpowered by her tears and 
lamentations and the clamors of her callow brood. The 
corporal was sent up to the Alhambra under a guard, in 
his gallows garb, like a hooded friar, but with head erect 
and a face of iron. The Escribano was demanded in ex- 
change, according to the cartel. The once bustling and 
self-sufficient man of the law was drawn forth from his 
dungeon, more dead than alive. All his flippancy and 
conceit had evaporated; his hair, it is said, had nearly 
turned gray with affright, and he had a downcast, dogged 
look, as if he still felt the halter roimd his neck. 

The old governor stuck his one arm akimbo, and for a 
moment surveyed him with an iron smile. " Henceforth, 
my friend," said he, " moderate your zeal in hurrying 
others to the gallows; be not too certain of your own safety, 
even though you should have the law on your side; and, 
above all, take care how you play off your schoolcraift 
another time upon an old soldier." 



GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 

When Governor Manco, or the One-armed, kept up a 
sliow of military state in the Alhambra, he became nett}^id 



186 THE ALHAMBRA. 

at the reproaches continually cast upon his fortress of being 
a nestling-place of rogues and contrabandistas. On a sud- 
den, the old potentate determined on reform, and settiug 
vigorously to work, ejected whole nests of vagabonds out 
of the fortress and the gypsy caves with which the sur- 
rounding hills are honeycombed. He sent out soldiers 
also to patrol the avenues and foot-paths, with orders to 
take up all suspicious persons. 

One bright summer morning, a patrol consisting of the 
testy old corporal who had distmguished himself in the affair 
of the notary, a trumpeter and two privates, were seated 
under the garden wall of the Generaliffe, beside the road 
which leads down from the Mountain of the Sun, when 
they heard the tramp of a horse, and a male voice singing 
in rough, though not unmusical tones, an old Castilian 
campaigning song. 

Presently they beheld a sturdy, sunburned fellow, clad 
in the ragged garb of a foot-soldier, leading a powerful 
Arabian horse caparisoned in the ancient Morisco fashion. 

Astonished at the sight of a strange soldier, descending, 
steed in hand, from that solitary momitain, the corporal 
stepped forth and challenged him. 
. " Who goes there ?^^ 

*^ A friend.^' 

'^ Who, and what are you?" 

" A poor soldier, just from the wars, with a cracked 
crown and empty purse for a reward." 

By this time they were enabled to view him more nar- 
rowly. He had a black patch across his forehead, which, 
with a grizzled beard, added to a certain dare-devil cast of 
countenance, while a slight squint threw into the whole an 
occasional gleam of roguish good-humor. 

Having answered the questions of the patrol, the soldier 
seemed to consider himself entitled to make others in re- 
turn. 

" May I ask," said he, '^ what city is this which I see at 
the foot of the hill?" 

'' What city?" cried the trumpeter; " come, that's too 
bad. Here's a fellow lurkuig about the Momitain of the 
xSun, and demands the name of the great city of Gra- 
nada." 

'' Granada! Madre de Dios! can it be possible?" 

*^ Perhaps not!" rejoined the trumpeter, " and perhaps 



THE ALHAMBKA. 187 

you have no idea that yonder are the towers of the Alham- 
bra?^' 

*^ Son of a trumpet/^ replied the stranger, " do not trifle 
with me; if this be indeed the Alhambra, I have some 
strange matters to reveal to the governor.'^ 

*' You will have an opportunity/' said the corporal, 
^' for we mean to take you before him/' 

By this time the trumpeter had seized the bridle of the 
steed, the two privates had each secured an arm of the 
soldier, the corporal put himself in front, gave the word, 
"forward, march!'' and away they marched for the Al- 
hambra. 

The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine Arabian 
horse brought in captive by the patrol, attracted the atten- 
tion of all the idlers of the fortress, and of those gossiji 
groups that generally assemble about wells and fountams 
at early dawn. The wheel of the cistern paused in its 
rotations; the slipshod servant-maid stood gaping with 
pitcher hi hand, as the corporal passed by with his prize. 
A motley train gradually gathered in the rear of the escort. 
Knowing nods, and winks, and conjectures passed from 
one to another. It is a deserter, said one; a contraband- 
ista, said another; a bandalero, said a third; until it was 
affirmed that a captain of a desperate band of robbers had 
been captured by the prowess of the corporal and his patrol. 
'^ Well, well," said the old crones to one another, " cap- 
tain or not, let him get out of the grasp of old Governor 
Manco if he can, though he is but one-handed." 

Governor Manco was seated in one of the inner halls of 
the Alhambra, taking his morning's cup of chocolate in 
company with his confessor, a fat Franciscan friar from 
the neighboring convent. A demure, dark-eyed damsel of 
Malaga, the daughter of his housekeeper, was attending 
upon him. 

The world hmted that the damsel, who, with all her de- 
mureness, was a sly, buxom baggage, had found out a soft 
spot in the iron heart of the old governor, and held com- 
plete control over him — but let that pass; the domestic 
affairs of these mighty potentates of the earth should not 
be too narrowly scrutinized. 

When word was brought that a suspicious stranger had 
been taken Im-king about the fortress, and was actually in 
the outer court, in durance of the corporal, waiting the 



188 THE ALHAMBRA. 

pleasure of his excellency, tlie pride and stateliness of office 
swelled the bosom of the governor. Giving back his choco- 
late-cup into the hands of the demure damsel, he called for 
his basket-hilted sword, girded it to his side, twirled up his 
mustachios, took his seat in a large high-backed chair, 
assumed a bitter and forbidding aspect, and ordered th^ 
prisoner into his presence. The soldier was brought in, 
still closely pinioned by his captors, and guarded by the 
corporal. He maintained, however, a resolute, self-con- 
fident air, and returned the sharp, scrutinizing look of the 
governor with an easy squint, which by no means pleased 
the punctilious old potentate. 

" Well, culprit!'" said the governor, after he had re- 
garded him for a moment in silence, " what have you to 
say for yourself? who are you?"" 

" A soldier, just from the wars, who has brought away 
nothing but scars and bruises."" 

" A soldier? humjih! a foot-soldier by your garb. I un- 
derstand you have a fine Arabian horse. I presume you 
brought him, too, from the wars, beside your scars and 
bruises."" 

" May it please your excellency, I have something strange 
to tell about that horse. Indeed, I have one of the most 
wonderful things to relate — something, too, that concerns 
the security of this fortress, indeed, of all Granada. But it 
is a matter to be imparted only to your private ear, or in 
presence of such only as are in your confidence."" 

The governor considered for a moment, and then directed 
the corporal and his men to withdraw, but to post them- 
selves outside of the door, and be ready at call. " This 
holy friar,"" said he, " it is my confessor, you may say any- 
thing in his presence — and this damsel,"" nodding toward 
the handmaid, who had loitered with an air of great curi- 
osity, " this damsel is of great secrecy and discretion, and 
to be trusted with anything."" 

The soldier gave a glance between a sqmut and a leer at 
the demure handmaid. '' I am perfectly willing,"" said he, 
" that the damsel should remain."" 

When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier commenced 
his story. He was a fluent, smooth-tongued varlet, and 
had a command of language above his apparent rank, 

" May it please your excellency,"" said he, "I am, as I 
before observed^ a soldier, and have seen some hard service. 



THE ALHAMBRA. 180 

but my term of enlistment being expired, I was discharged 
not long since from the army at Valladolid, and set on foot 
for my native village in Andalusia. Yesterday evening the 
sun went down as I was traversing a great dry plain of old 
Castile/^ 

"Hold!"^ cried the governor, "what is this you say? 
Old Castile is some two or three himdred miles from this/^ 

" Even so,"*' replied the soldier, coolly, " I told your ex- 
cellency I had strange tilings to relate — but not more 
strange than true — as your excellency will find, if you will 
deign me a patient hearing/^ 

" Proceed, culprit/^ said the governor, twirling up his 
mustachios. 

" As the sun went down,^^ continued the soldier, " I 
cast my eyes about in search of some quarters for the night, 
but far as my sight could reach, there were no signs of 
habitation. I saw that I should have to make my bed on 
the naked plain, with my knapsack for a pillow; but your 
excellency is an old soldier, and knows that to one who has 
been in the wars, such a night's lodging is no great hard- 
ship. '^ 

The governor nodded assent, as he drew his pocket-hand- 
kerchief out of the basket-hilt of his sword, to drive away a 
fly that buzzed about his nose. 

'' Well, to make a long story short," continued the 
soldier, " I trudged forward for several miles, until I came 
to a bridge over a deep ravine, through which ran a little 
thread of water, almost dried up by the summer heat. At 
one end of the bridge was a Moorish tower, the upper part 
all in ruins, but a vault in the foundations quite entire. 
Here, thinks I, is a good place to make a halt. So I went 
down to the stream, took a hearty drink, for the water was 
pure and sweet, and I was parched with thirst, then opening 
my wallet, I took out an onion and a few crusts, which 
were all my provisions, and seating myself on a stone on 
the margin of the stream, began to make my supper, in- 
tending afterward to quarter myself for the night in the 
vault of the tower, and capital quarters they would have 
been for a campaigner just from the wars, as your excel- 
lency, who is an old soldier, may suppose.'^ 

" I have put up gladly with worse in my time,'' said the 
governor, returning his pocket-handkerchief into the hilt 
of his sword. 



190 THE ALHAMBRA. 

*^ While I was quietly crunching my crust/ ^ pursued the 
soldier, " I heard something stir within the vault; I list- 
ened; it was the tramp of a horse. By and by a man 
came forth from a door in the foundation of the tower, 
close by the water's edge, leading a powerful horse by the 
bridle. I could not well make out what he was by the 
starlight. It had a suspicious look to be lurking among 
the ruins of a tower in that wild, solitary place. He might 
be a mere wayfarer like myself; he might be a contraband- 
ista; he might be a bandalero! What of that? — thank 
Heaven and my poverty, I had nothiug to lose — so I sat 
still and crunched my crusts. 

" He led his horse to the water close by where I was sit- 
ting, so that I had a fair opportimity of reconnoitering him. 
To my surprise, he was dressed in a Moorish garb, with a 
cuirass of steel, and a polished skull-cap, that I distin- 
guished by the reflection of the stars upon it. His horse, 
too, was harnessed in the Morisco fashion, with great shovel 
stirrups. He led him, as I said, to the side of the stream, 
into which the animal plunged his head almost to the eyes, 
and drank until I thought he would have burst. 

*' ' Comrade,' said I, ' your steed drinks well; it's a good 
sign when a horse plunges his muzzle bravely into the 
water. ' 

" * He may well drink,' said the stranger, speaking with 
a Moorish accent; ' it is a good year since he had his last 
draught. ' 

" ' By Santiago!' said I, * that beats even the camels 
that I have seen in Africa. But come, you seem to be 
something of a soldier; won't you sit down, and take part 
of a soldier's fare?' In fact, I felt the want of a com- 
panion in that lonely place, and was willing to put up 
with an infidel. Besides, as your excellency well knows, 
a soldier is never very particular about the faith of his 
company, and soldiers of all countries are comrades on 
peaceable ground." 

The governor again nodded assent. 

" Well, as I was saying, I mvited him to share my 
supper, such as it was, for I could not do less in common 
hospitality. 

" ' I have no time to pause for meat or drink,' said he; 
* I have a long journey to make before morning. ' 

" ' In which direction?' said I. 



THE ALHAMBftA. 191 

" ' Andalusia/ said he. 

" ' Exactly my route/ said I. ' So, as you won^t stop 
and eat with me, perhaps you^ll let me mount and ride 
with you. I see your horse is of powerful frame; 1^11 
warrant he^ll carry double. ' 

" ' Agreed, "* said the trooper; and it would not have 
been civil and soldier-like to refuse, especially as I had 
offered to share my supper with him. So up he mounted, 
and up I mounted behind him. 

" * Hold fast,' said he; ' my steed goes like the wind.' 

'^ * Never fear me,' said I, and so off we set. 

'^ From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, from a 
trot to a gallop, and from a gallop to a harum-scarum 
scamper. It seemed as if rocks, trees, houses, everything, 
flew hurry-scurry behind us. 

" ' What town is this?' said I. 

*' ^ Segovia,' said he; and before the words were out of 
his mouth, the towers of Segovia were out of sight. We 
swept up the Guadarama Mountains, and down by the 
Escurial; and we skirted the walls of Madrid, and we 
scoured away across the plains of La Mancha. In this way 
we went up hill and down dale, by towns and cities all 
buried in deep sleep, and across mountains, and plains, 
and rivers just glimmering in the starlight. 

" To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your 
excellency, the trooper suddenly pulled up on the side of a 
mountain. ' Here we are,' said he, ' at the end of our 
journey. ' 

" I looked about, but could see no signs of habitation; 
nothing but the mouth of a cavern; while I looked, I saw 
multitudes of people in Moorish dresses, some on horseback, 
some on foot, arriving as if borne by the wind from all 
points of the compass, and hurrying into the mouth of the 
cavern Hke bees into a hive. Before I could ask a question, 
the trooper struck his long Moorish spurs into the horse's 
flanks, and dashed in with the throng. We passed along a 
steep winding way that descended into the very bowels of 
the mountain. As we pushed on, a light began to glimmer 
up by little and little, like the first glimmerings of day, 
but what caused it, I could not discover. It grew stronger 
and stronger, and enabled me to see everything around. I 
now noticed, as we passed along, great caverns opening to 
the right and left, like halls in an arsenal. In some there 



193 THE ALHAMBRA. 

were shields^ and helmets^ and cuirasses, and lances, and 
cimeters hanging against the walls; in others, there were 
great hea23S of war-like munitions and camp equipage lying 
upon the ground. 

" It would have done your excellency's heart good, being 
an old soldier, to have seen such grand provision for war. 
Then in other caverns there were long rows of horsemen, 
armed to the teeth, with lances raised and banners un- 
furled, all ready for the field; but they all sat motionless 
in their saddles like so many statues. In other halls were 
warriors sleeping on the ground beside their horses, and 
foot-soldiers in groups, ready to fall into the ranks. All 
were in old-fashioned Moorish dresses and armor. 

*' Well, your excellency, to cut a long story short, we at 
length entered an immense cavei-n, or, I might say, palace, 
of grotto work, the walls of which seemed to be veined with 
gold and silver, and to sparkle with diamonds and sap- 
phires and all kinds of precious stones. At the upper end 
sat a Moorish king on a golden throne, with his nobles on 
each side, and a guard of African blacks with drawn cime- 
ters. All the crowd that continued to flock in, and 
amomited to thousands and thousands, passed one by one 
before his throne, each paying homage as he passed. Some 
of the multitude were dressed in magnificent robes, with- 
out stain or blemish, and sparkling with jewels; others in 
burnished and enameled armor; while others were in mol- 
dered and mildewed garments, and in armor all battered 
and dinted, and covered with rust. 

" I had hitherto held my tongue, for your excellency 
well knows it is not for a soldier to ask many questions 
when on duty; but I could keep silence no longer. 

" ' Prithee, comrade,' said I, ' what is the meaning of 
all this?' 

" ' This,' said the trooper, ' is a great and powerful 
mystery. Know, oh. Christian, that you see before you 
the court and army of Boabdil, the last king of Granada. ' 

" ' What is this you tell me?' cried I. ^ Boabdil and his 
court were exiled from the land hundreds of years agone, 
and all died in Africa. ' 

"' So it is recorded in your lying chi'onicles,' replied the 
Moor, ' but know that Boabdil and the warriors wno made 
the last struggle for Granada were all shut up in this 



THE ALHAMBEA. 193 

mountain by powerful enchantment. As to the king and 
army that marched forth from Granada at the time of the 
surrender, they were a mere phantom train, or spirits and 
demons permitted to assume those shapes to deceive the 
Christian sovereigns. And furthermore, let me tell you, 
friend, that all Spain is a country under the power of en- 
chantment. There is not a mountain cave, not a lonely 
watch-tower on the plains, nor ruined castle on the hills, 
but has some spell-bomid warriors sleeping from age to age 
within its vaults, mitil the sins are expiated for wliich Allah 
permitted the dominion to pass for a time out of the hands 
of the faithful. Once every year, on the eve of St. John, 
they are released from enchantment from sunset to sunrise, 
and permitted to repair here to pay homage to their sover- 
eign; and the crowds which you behold swarming into the 
cavern are Moslem warriors from their haunts in all parts 
of Spain; for my own part, you saw the ruuied tower of 
the bridge in old Castile, where I have now wintered and 
summered for many hundred years, and where I must be 
back agam by day-break. As to the battalions of horse 
and foot which you beheld drawn up m array in the neigh- 
boring caverns, they are the spell-bound warriors of Grana- 
da. It is written in the book of fate that when the en- 
chantment is broken, Boabdil will descend from the 
moimtains at the head of this army, resume his throne m' 
the Alhambra and his sway of Granada, and gathering 
together the enchanted warriors from all parts of Spain, 
will reconquer the Peninsula, and restore it to Moslem 
rule.^ 

" ' And when shall this happen?' said I. 

'' ' Allah alone knows. We had hoped the day of deliv- 
erance was at hand; but there reigns at present a vigilant 
governor in Alhambra, a stanch old soldier, the same called 
Governor Manco; while such a warrior holds command of 
the very outpost, and stands ready to check the first erup- 
tion from the mountain, I fear Boabdil and his soldiery 
must be content to rest upon their arms.' '' 

Here the governor raised himself somewhat perpendicu- 
larly, adjusted his sword, and twirled up his mustachios. 

" To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your 
excellency, the trooper having given me this account, dis- 
mounted from his steed. 

" * Tarry here/ said he, ' and guard my steed, while I 



194 THE ALHAMBRA. 

go and bow the knee to Boabdil. ' So saying, he strode 
away among the throng that pressed forward to the throne. 

*' What's to be done? thought I, when thus left to my- 
self. Shall I wait here until this infidel returns to whisk 
me off on his goblin steed, the Lord knows where? or shall 
I make the most of my time, and beat a retreat from this 
hobgoblin community? A soldier's mind is soon made up, 
as your excellency well knows. As to the horse, he be- 
longed to an avowed enemy of the faith and the realm, 
and was a fair prize according to the rules of war. So 
hoisting myself from the crupper into the saddle, I turned 
the reins, struck the Moorish stirrups into the sides of the 
steed, and put him to make the best of his way out of the 
passage by which we had entered. As we scoured by the 
halls where the Moslem horsemen sat in motionless bat- 
talions, I thought I heard the clang of armor and a hollow 
murmur of voices. I gave the steed another taste of the 
stirrups, and doubled my speed. There was now a soimd 
behind me like a rushing blast; I heard the clatter of a 
thousand hoofs; a countless throng overtook me; I was 
borne along in the press, and hurled forth from the mouth 
of the cavern, while thousands of shadowy forms were 
swept off in every direction by the four winds of heaven. 

" In the whirl and confusion of the scene, I was thrown 
from the saddle, and fell senseless to the earth. When I 
came to myself I was lying on the brow of a hill, with the 
Arabian steed standing beside me, for in falling my arm 
had sli^Dped within the bridle, which, I presume, prevented 
his whisking oif to old Castile. 

" Your excellency may easily judge of my surprise, on 
looking round, to behold hedges of aloes and Indian figs 
and other proofs of a southern climate, and see a great city 
below me with towers and palaces and a grand cathedral. 
I descended the hill cautiously, leading my steed, for I was 
afraid to mount him again, lest he should play me some 
slippery trick. As I descended, I met with your patrol, 
who let me into the secret that it was Granada that lay be- 
fore me; and that I was actually under the walls of the 
Alhambra, the fortress of the redoubted Governor Manco, 
the terror of all enchanted Moslems. When I heard this, 
I determined at once to seek your excellency, to inform 
you of all that I had seen, and to warn you of the perils 
that surroimd and undermine you^ that you may take 



THE ALHAMBRA. 195 

measures in time to guard your fortress, and the kingdom 
itself, from this intestine army that lurks in the very bowels 
of the land." 

" And 2^rithee, friend, you who are a veteran cam- 
paigner, and have seen so much service," said the govern- 
or, " how would you advise me to go about to preveait tliis 
evil?" 

" It is not for an humble private of the ranks," said the 
soldier, modestly, '" to pretend to instruct a commander of 
your excellency's sagacity; but it appears to me that your 
excellency might cause all the caves and entrances into the 
mountam to be walled up with solid mason-work, so that 
Boabdil and his army might be completely corked up in 
their subterranean habitation. If the good father, too," 
added the soldier, reverently bowing to the friar, and de- 
voutly crossing himself, '' would consecrate the barricadoes 
with his blessing, and put up a few crosses and relics, and 
images of saints, I think they might withstand all the 
power of infidel enchantments." 

" They doubtless would be of great avail," said the friar. 

The governor now placed his arm akimbo, with his hand 
resting on the hilt of his Toledo, fixed liis eye upon the 
soldier, and gently waggmg his head from one side to the 
other: 

" So, friend," said he, " then you really suppose I am 
to be gulled with this cock-and-bull stoiy about enchanted 
momitains and enchanted Moors. Hark ye, culprit! not 
another word. An old soldier you may be, but you'll 
find you have an old soldier to deal with, and one not 
easily outgeneraled. Ho! guard there! put this fellow in 
irons." 

The demure handmaid would have put in a word in favor 
of the prisoner, but the governor silenced her with a look. 

As they weie pmioning the soldier, one of the guards felt 
something of bulk in his pocket, and drawing it forth, 
found a long leathern purse that appeared to be well filled. 
Holding it by one corner, he turned out the contents on 
the table before the governor, and never did freebooter's 
bag make more gorgeous delivery. Out tumbled rings and 
jewels, and rosaries of pearls, and sparkling diamond 
crosses, and a profusion of ancient golden coin, some of 
which fell jingling to the floor, and rolled away to the 
uttermost parts of the chamber. 



196 THE ALHAMBRA. 

For a time the functions of justice were suspended; there 
was a universal scramble after the glittering fugitives. 
The governor alone, who was imbued with true Spanish 
pride^ maintained his stately decorum, though his eye be- 
trayed a little anxiety until the last coin and jewel was re- 
stored to the sack. 

The friar was not so calm; his whole face glowed like a 
furnace, and his eyes twinkled and flashed at sight of the 
rosaries and crosses. 

" Sacrilegious wretch that thou art!^^ exclaimed he, 
" what church or sanctuary hast thou been plimdering of 
these sacred relics?^' 

" Neither one nor the other, holy father. If they be 
sacrilegious spoils, they must have been taken in times long 
past by the infidel trooper I have mentioned. I was just 
going to tell his excellency, when he interrupted me, that, 
on taking possession of the trooper^ s horse, I unhooked a 
leathern sack which hung at the saddle-bow, and which, I 
presume, contained the plunder of his campaignings in days 
of old, when the Moors overran the country.''' 

" Mighty well — at present you will make up yoiu* mind 
to take up your quarters in a chamber of the Vermihon 
Towers, which, though not under a magic spell, will hold 
you as safe as any cave of your enchanted Moors.'' 

" Your excellency will do as you think proper," said the 
prisoner, coolly. " I shall be thankful to your excellency 
for any accommodation in the fortress. A soldier who has 
been in the wars, as your excellency well knows, is not par- 
ticular about his lodgings; and provided I have a snug 
dungeon and regular rations, I shall manage to make my- 
self comfortable. I would only entreat that while your 
excellency is so careful about me, you would have an eye 
to your fortress, and think on the hint I dropped about 
stopping up the entrances to the mountain." 

Here ended the scene. The prisoner was conducted to a 
strong dungeon in the Vermilion Towers, the Arabian 
steed was led to his excellency's stable, and the trooper's 
sack was deposited in his excellency's strong-box. To the 
latter, it is true, the friar made some demur, questioning 
whether the sacred relics, which were evidently sacrilegious 
spoils, should not be placed in custody of the church; but 
as the governor was peremptory on the subject, and was 
absolute lord in the Alhambra, the friar discreetly dropped 



THE ALHAMBRA. 197 

the discussion, but determined to convey intelligence of the 
fact to the church dignitaries in Granada. 

To explain these prompt and rigid measures on the part 
of old Governor Manco, it is proper to observe, that about 
this time the Alpuxarra Mountains in the neighborhood of 
Granada were terribly infected by a gang of robbers, under 
the command of a daring chief named Manuel Borasco, 
who were accustomed to prowl about the country, and 
even to enter the city in various disguises to gain intelli- 
gence of the departure of convoys of merchandise, or 
travelers with well-lined purses, whom they took care to 
waylay in distant and solitary passes of their road. These 
repeated and daring outrages had awakened the attention 
of government, and the commanders of the various posts 
had received instructions to be on the alert/ and to take up 
all suspicious stragglers. Governor Manco was particu- 
larly zealous, in consequence of the various stigmas that 
had been cast upon his fortress, and he now doubted not 
that he had entrapped some formidable desperado of this 
gang. 

In the meantime, the story took wind, and became the 
talk, not merely of the fortress, but of the whole city of 
Granada. It was said that the noted robber, Manuel 
Borasco, the terror of the Alpuxarras, had fallen into the 
clutches of old Governor Manco, and been cooped up by 
him in a dungeon of the Vermilion towers, and every one 
who had been robbed by him flocked to recognize 
the marauder. The Vermilion Towers, as is well known, 
stand apart from the Alhambra, on a sister hill sepa- 
rated from the main fortress by the ravine, down which 
passes the main avenue. There were no outer walls, but a 
sentmel patroled before the tower. The window of the 
chamber in which the soldier was confined was strongly 
grated, and looked upon a small esplanade. Here the good 
folks of Granada repaired to gaze at him, as they would at 
a laughing hyena grinning through the cage of a menagerie. 
Nobody, however, recognized him for Manuel Borasco, for 
that terrible robber was noted for a ferocious physiognomy, 
and had by no means the good-humored squint of the pris- 
oner. Visitors came not merely from the city, but from 
all parts of the country, but nobody knew him, and there 
began to be doubts in the minds of the common people, 
whether there might not be some truth m his story. That 



198 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Boabdil and his army were shut up in the mountain, was 
an old tradition which many of the ancient inhabitants had 
heard from their fathers. Numbers went up to the 
Momitain of the Sun, or, rather, of St. Elena, in search of 
the caye mentioned by the soldier; and saw and peeped 
into the deep, dark pit, descending, no one knows how far, 
into the mountain, and which remains there to this day, 
the fabled entrance to the subterranean abode of Boabdil. 

By degrees, the soldier became popular with the common 
people. A freebooter of the momitains is by no means the 
opprobrious character in Spain that a robber is in any other 
country; on the contrary, he is a kind of chivalrous 23erson- 
age in the eyes of the lower classes. There is always a 
disposition, also, to cavil at the conduct of those m com- 
mand, and many began to murmur at the high-handed 
measures of old Governor Manco, and to look upon the 
prisoner in the light of a martyr. 

The soldier, moreover, was a merry, waggish fellow, that 
had a joke for every one who came near his window, and a 
soft speech for every female. He had procured an old 
guitar also, and would sit by his window and sing ballads 
and love ditties to the delight of the women of the neigh- 
borhood, who would assemble on the esplanade in the even- 
ings, and dance boleros to his music. Having trimmed off 
his rough beard, his sunburned face found favor in the eyes 
of the fair, and the demiu-e handmaid of the governor de- 
clared that his squint was perfectly irresistible. This kind- 
hearted damsel had, from the first, evinced a deep sym- 
pathy in his fortunes, and having in vain tried to mollify 
the governor, had set to work privately to mitigate the 
rigor of his dispensations. Every day she brought the 
prisoner some crumbs of comfort which had fallen from 
the governor's table, or been abstracted from his larder, 
together with, now and then, a consoling bottle of choice 
Val de Penas, or rich Malaga. 

While this petty treason was going on in the very center 
of the old governor's citadel, a storm of open war was 
brewing up among his external foes. The circumstance of 
a bag of gold and jewels having been found ujjon the per- 
son of the suj)posed robber had been reported with many 
exaggerations in Granada. A question of territorial juris- 
diction was immediately started by the governor's inveterate 
rival, the captain-general. He insisted that the prisoner 



THE ALHAMBRA. 199 

had been captured without the precincts of the Alhambra, 
and within the rules of his authority. He demanded his 
body, therefore, and the spolia opima taken with him. 
Due mformation having been carried hkewise by the friar 
to the grand inquisitor, of the crosses, and the rosaries, and 
other rehcs contained in the bag, he claimed the culprit, as 
having been guilty of sacrilege, and insisted that his plun- 
der was due to the church, and his body to the next auto 
da fe. The feuds ran high; the governor was furious, and 
swore, rather than surrender his captive, he would hang 
him up within the Alhambra, as a spy caught within the 
purlieus of the fortress. 

The captain-general threatened to send a body of soldiers 
to transfer the prisoner from the Vermilion Towers to the 
city. The grand inquisitor was equally bent upon dispatch- 
ing a number of the familiars of the holy office. Word 
was brought late at night to the governor, of these machin- 
ations. "Let them come,^^ said ho, '^they^ll find me 
beforehand with them. He must rise bright and early 
who would take in an old soldier.''^ He accordingly issued 
orders to have the prisoner removed at day-break to the 
donjon keep within the walls of the Alhambra: " And 
d'ye hear, child, ^' said he tohisdemnre handmaid, " tap at 
my door, and wake me before cock-crowmg, that I may 
see to the matter myself.'^ 

The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody 'tapped at 
the door of the governor. The sun rose high above the 
mountain-tops, and glittered in at his casement ere the 
governor was awakened from his morning dreams by his 
veteran corporal, who stood before him with terror stamped 
upon his iron visage. 

"He's off! he's gone!'^ cried the corporal, gaspmg for 
breath. 

" Who's oif? who's gone?'' 

" The soldier^the robber — the devil, for aught I know. 
His dungeon is empty, but the door locked. No one knows 
how he has escaped out of it." 

" Who saw him last?" 

" Your handmaid — she brought him his supper. ^^ 

" Let her be called instantly." 

Here was new matter of confusion. The chamber of the 
demure damsel was likewise empty; her bed had not been 
slept in; she had doubtless gone oft with the culprit, as she 



200 THE ALHAMBRA. 

had appeared, for some days past, to have frequent conver- 
sations with him. 

This was wounding the old governor in a tender pai*t, 
but he had scarce time to wince at it, when new misfort- 
unes broke upon his view. On going into his cabinet, he 
found his strong-box open, the leathern purse of the trooper 
extracted, and with it a couple of corpulent bags of doub- 
loons. 

But how, and which way had the fugitives escaped? A 
peasant who lived in a cottage by the road-side leading up 
into the Sierra, declared that he had heard the tramp of a 
powerful steed, just before day-break, passing up into the 
mountains. He had looked out at his casement, and could 
just distinguish a horseman, with a female seated before 
him. 

'' Search the stables!'^ cried Governor Manco. The 
stables were searched; all the horses were in their stalls, 
excepting the Arabian steed. In his place was a stout 
cudgel tied to the manger, and on it a label bearing these 
words, '' A gift to Governor Manco, from an old soldier.'^ 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 

There lived once, in a waste apartment of the Alham- 
bra, a merry little fellow named Lope Sanchez, who worked 
in the gardens, and was as brisk and blithe as a grass- 
hopper, singing all day long. He was the life and soul of 
the fortress. When his work was over, he would sit on one 
of the stone benches of the esplanade and strum his guitar, 
and sing long ditties about the Cid, and Bernardo del 
Carpio, and Fernando del Pulgar, and other Spanish 
heroes, for the amusement of the old soldiers of the 
fortress, or would strike uj) a merrier tune, and set the 
girls dancing boleros and fandangos. 

Like most little men. Lope Sanchez had a strapping 
buxom dame for a wife, who could almost have put lum in 
her pocket; but he lacked the usual poor man's lot — in- 
stead of ten children he had but one. This was a little 
black-eyed girl, about twelve years of age, named San- 
chica, who was as merry as himself, and the delight of his 
heart She played about him as he worked in the gardens, 
danced to his guitar as he sat in the shade, and ran as wild 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



201 



as a young fawn about the groves, and alleys, and ruined 

halls of the Alhambra. , n. t i ^ ..i. 

It was now the eve of the blessed St. John^ and the 
holyday-loving gossips of the Alhambra, men, women, and 
children, went up at night to the Mountain of the Sun, 
which rises above the Generaliife, to keep their naidsunimer 
vigil on its level summit. It was a bright moonlight night, 
and all the mountains were gray and silvery, and the city, 
with its domes and spires, lay in shadows below, and the 
Veo-a was like a fairy-land, with haunted streams gleaming 
among its dusky groves. On the highest part of the 
mountain they lighted up a bale fire, accordmg to an old 
custom of the country handed down from the Moors. The 
inhabitants of the surrounding comitry were keeping a 
similar vigil, and bale fires here and there m the Vega, 
and along the folds of the mountams, blazed up palely m 

the moonlight. . -, . . .i v 

The evening was gayly passed m dancing to tlie guitar 
of Lope Sanchez, who was never so joyous as when on a 
holiday revel of the kind. While the dance was going on, 
the little Sanchica, with some of her playmates, sported 
among the ruins of an old Moorish fort that crowns the 
mountam, when, in gathermg pebbles m the fosse, she 
found a small hand, curiously carved of jet, the fingers 
closed, and the thumb firmly clasped upon them. Over- 
joyed with her good fortune, she ran to her mother with 
her prize. It immediately became a subject of sage specu- 
lation, and was eyed by some with superstitious distrust. 
'' Throw it away,'' said one; " it is Moorish— depend upon 
it, there's mischief and witchcraft in it." '' By no means,'' 
said another, " you may sell it for something to the jeweler 
of the Zacatin." In the midst of this discussion, an old 
tawny soldier drew near, who had served in Africa, and was 
as swarthy as a Moor. He examined the hand, with a 
knowmg look. " I have seen things of this kind," said he, 
*' among the Moors of Barbary. It is of great value to 
guard against the evil eye, and all kinds of spells and en- 
chantments. I give you joy, friend Lope; this bodes good 
luck to your child." ,. t xi 

Upon hearing this, the wife of Lope Sanchez tied the 
little hand of jet to a ribbon, and hung it round the neck 
of her daughter. n xi, 4? -4- 

The sight of this talisman called up all the favorite 



302 THE ALHAMBRA. 

su2:)erstitions about the Moors. The dance was neglected, 
and they sat in groups on the ground, telling old legendary 
tales handed down from their ancestors. Some of their 
stories turned u]3on the wonders of the very mountain upon 
which they were seated^ which is a famous hobgoblin 
region. 

One ancient crone gave a long account of the subterra- 
nean palace in the bowels of that mountain, where Boabdil 
and all his Moslem court are said to remain enchanted. 
'' Among yonder ruins/' said she, pointing to some crum- 
bling walls and momids of earth on a distant part of the 
mountain, " there is a deep black pit that goes down, down 
into the very heart of the mountain. For all the money in 
Granada, I would not look down into it. Once upon a 
time, a poor man of the Alhambra, who tended goats upon 
this mountain, scrambled down into that pit after a kid 
that had fallen in. He came out again, all wild and star- 
ing, and told such things of what he had seen, that every 
one thought his brain was turned. He raved for a day or 
two about hobgoblin Moors that had pursued him in the 
cavern, and could hardly be persuaded to drive his goats 
up again to the mountain. He did so at last, but, poor 
man, he never came down again. The neighbors fomid 
his goats browsing about the Moorish ruins, and his hat 
and mantle lying near the mouth of the pit, but he was 
nevermore heard of.-" 

The little Sanchica listened with breathless attention to 
this story. She was of a curious nature, and felt immedi- 
ately a great hankering to peep into this dangerous pit. 
Stealing away from her companions, she sought the distant 
ruins, and after groping for some time among them, came 
to a small hollow or basin near the brow of the mountain, 
where it swept steeply down into the valley of the Darro. 
In the center of this basin yawned the mouth of the pit. 
Sanchica ventured to the verge and peeped in. All was 
black as pitch, and gave an idea of immeasurable depth. 
Her blood ran cold — she drew back — then peeped again — • 
then would have run away — then took another j^eep — the 
very hoiTor of the thing was delightful to her. At length 
she rolled a large stone, and pushed it over the brink. For 
some time it fell in silence; then struck some rocky projec- 
tion with a violent crash, then rebomided from side to side, 
rumbling and tumbling, with a noise like thunder, then 



, THE ALHAMBRA. 203 

made a final splash into water^ far, far below, and all was 
again silent. 

The silence, however, did not long continue. It seemed 
as if something had been awakened within this dreary 
abyss. A murmuring sound gradually rose out of the pit 
like the hum and buzz of a bee-hive. It grew louder and 
louder; there was tile confusion of voices as of a distant 
multitude, together with the faint din of arms, clash of 
cymbals, and clangor of trumpets, as if some army were 
marshaling for battle in the very bowels of the mountain. 

The child drew olf with silent awe, and hastened back to 
the place where she had left her parents and their com- 
panions. All were gone. The bale fire was expiring, and 
its last wreath of smoke curling up in the moonshine. 
The distant fires that had blazed along the mountains and 
in the Vega were all extinguished; everything seemed to 
have sunk to repose. Sanchica called her parents and 
some of her companions by name, but received no reply. 
She ran down the side of the mountain, and by the gardens 
of the Generaliffe, until she arrived in the alley of trees 
leading to the Alhambra, where she seated herself on a 
bench of a woody recess to recover breath. The bell from 
the watch-tower of the Alhambra told midnight. There 
was a deep tranquillity, as if all nature slept, excepting 
the low tinkling sound of an unseen stream that ran under 
the covert of the bushes. The breathing sweetness of the 
atmosphere was lulling her to sleep, when her eye was 
caught by something glittering at a distance, and, to her 
surprise, she beheld a long cavalcade of Moorish warriors 
poming down the mountain-side and along the leafy 
avenues. Some were armed with lances and shields; others 
with cimeters and battle-axes, and with polished cuirasses 
that flashed in the moonbeams. Their horses pranced 
proudly, and champed upon their bits, but their tramp 
caused no more sound than if they had been shod with 
felt, and the riders were all as pale as death. Among 
them rode a beautiful lady with a crowned head and long 
golden locks intwined with pearls. The housings of her 
palfrey were of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, and 
swept the earth; but she rode all disconsolate, with eyes 
ever fixed upon the ground. 

Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnificently arrayed 
in robes and tm-bans of divers colors, and amid these, on a 



804 THE ALHAMBEA. 

cream-colored charger, rode King Boabdil el Chico, in a 
royal mantle covered with jewels, and a crown sparkling 
with diamonds. The little Sanchica knew him by his 
yellow beard, and his resemblance to his portrait, which 
she had often seen in the picture-gallery of the Generaliffe. 
She gazed in wonder and admiration at this royal pageant 
as it passed glistening among the trees, but though she 
knew these monarchs, and courtiers, and warriors, so pale 
and silent, were out of the common course of nature, and 
things of magic or enchantment, yet she looked on with a 
bold heart, such courage did she derive from the mystic 
talisman of the hand which was suspended about her neck. 

The cavalcade having passed by, she rose and followed. 
It continued on to the great Gate of Justice, which stood 
wide open; the old invalid sentinels on duty lay on the 
stone benches of the barbican, buried in profound and ap- 
parently charmed sleep, and the phantom pageant swept 
noiselessly by them with flaunting banner and triumphant 
state. Sanchica would have followed, but, to her surprise, 
she beheld an opening m the earth withm the barbican 
leading down beneath the foundations of the tower. She 
entered for a little distance, and was encouraged to proceed 
by finding steps rudely hewn in the rock, and a vaulted 
passage here and there lighted up by a silver lamp, which, 
while it gave light, diffused likewise a grateful fragrance. 
Venturing on, she came at last to a great hall wrought out 
of the heart of the mountain, magnificently furnished in 
the Moorish style, and lighted up by silver and crystal 
lamps. Here on an ottoman sat an old man in Moorish 
dress, with a long white beard, nodding and dozing, with a 
staff in his hand, which seemed ever to be slipping from 
his grasp; while at a little distance sat a beautiful lady m 
ancient Spanish dress, with a coronet all sparkling with 
diamonds, and her hair intwined with pearls, who was 
softly playing on a silver lyre. The little Sanchica now 
recollected a story she had heard among the old people of 
the Alhambra, concerning a Gothic princess confined in 
the center of the mountain by an old Arabian magician, 
whom she kept bound up in magic sleep by the power of 
music. 

The lady paused with surprise at seeing a mortal in that 
enchanted hall. " Is it the eve of the blessed St. John?'' 
said she. 



THE ALHAMBEA. 205 

" It is/' replied Sanchica. 

'* Then for one night the magic charm is suspended. 
Come hither, child, and fear not. I am a Christian like 
thyself, though bound here by enchantment. Touch my 
fetters with the talisman that hangs about thy neck, and 
for this night I shall be free.^^ 

So saying, she opened her robes and displayed a broad 
golden band round her waist, and a golden chain that fast- 
ened her to the gromid. The child hesitated not to apply 
the little hand of jet to the golden band, and immediately 
the chain fell to the earth. At the sound the old man 
awoke, and began to rub his eyes, but the lady ran her 
fingers over the chords of the lyre, and again he fell into a 
slumber and began to nod, and his staff to falter in his 
hand. " Now,^" said the lady, " touch his staff with the 
talismanic hand of jet.'^ The child did so, and it fell 
from his grasp, and he sunk in a deejD sleep on the otto- 
man. The lady gently laid the silver lyi-e on the ottoman, 
leanmg it against the head of the sleeping magician, then 
touching the chords until they vibrated in his ear, " Oh, 
potent sjjirit of harmony,^' said she, " continue thus to 
hold his senses in thraldom till the return of the day!'' 
" Now follow me, my child," continued she, " and thou 
shalt behold the Alhambra as it was in the days of its 
glory, for thou hast a magic talisman that reveals all en- 
chantments." Sanchica followed the lady in silence. 
They passed up through the entrance of the cavern into 
the barbican of the Gate of Justice, and thence to the 
Plaza de la Algibes, or esplanade within the fortress. This 
was all filled with Moorish soldiery, horse and foot, mar- 
ftjhaled in squadrons, with banners displayed. There were 
royal guards also at the portal, and rows of African blacks 
with drawn cimeters. No one spoke a word, and Sanchica 
passed on fearlessly after her conductor. Her astonish- 
ment increased on entering the royal palace in which she 
had been reared. The broad moonshine lighted uj) all the 
halls, and courts, and gardens, almost as brightly as if it 
were day, but revealed a far different scene from that to 
which she was accustomed. The walls of the apartments 
were no longer stained and rent by time. Instead of cob- 
webs, they were now hung with rich silks of ^Damascus, 
and the gildings and arabesque paintings were restored to 
their original brilliancy and freshness. The halls^ instead 



206 THE ALHAMBRA. 

of being naked and unfurnislied, were set out with divans 
and ottomans of the rarest stuffs, embroidered with pearls 
and studded with precious gems, and all the fountains in 
the courts and gardens were playmg. 

The kitchens were again m full operation; cooks were 
busied preparing shadowy dishes, and roasting and boiling 
the phantoms of pullets and partridges; servants were 
hurr3ang to and fro with silver dishes heaped up with 
dainties, and arranging a delicious banquet. The Court 
of Lions was thronged with guards, and courtiers, and 
alfaquis, as in the old times of the Moors; and at the 
upper end, in the Saloon of Judgment, sat Boabdil on his 
throne, surrounded by his court, and swaying a shadowy 
scepter for the night. 

Notwithstanding all this throng and seeming bustle, not 
a voice or footstep was to be heard; nothing mterrupted 
the midnight silence but the plashing of the fountains. 
The little Sanchica followed her conductress in mute 
amazement about the palace, until they came to a portal 
opening to the vaulted passages beneath the great Tower 
of Comares. On each side of the portal sat the figure of a 
nymph, wrought out of alabaster. Their heads were 
turned aside, and their regards fixed upon the same spot 
within the vault. The enchanted lady paused, and beck- 
oned the child to her. " Here,^^ said she, '' is a great 
secret, which I will reveal to thee in reward for thy faith 
and courage. These discreet statues watch over a mighty 
treasure hidden m old times by a Moorish king. Tell thy 
father to search the spot on which their eyes are fixed, and 
he will find what will make him richer than any man in 
Granada. Thy innocent hands alone, however, gifted as 
thou art also with the talisman, can remove the treasure. 
Bid thy father use it discreetly, and devote a part of it to 
the performance of daily masses for my dehverance from 
this unholy enchantment.^^ 

When the lady had spoken these words, she led the child 
onward to the little garden of Lindaraxa, which is hard by 
the vault of the statues. The moon trembled upon the 
waters of the solitary fountain in the center of the garden, 
and shed a tender light upon the orange and citron-trees. 
The beautiful lady plucked a branch of myi'tle and 
wreathed it round the head of the child. " Let this be a 
memento, '' said she, " of what I have revealed to thee. 



THE ALHAMBEA. 207 

and a testimonial of its truth. My liour is come. I must 
return to the enchanted hall; follow me not, lest evil befall 
thee; farewell! Remember what I have said, and have 
masses performed for my deliverance.^^ So saying, the 
lady entered a dark passage leading beneath the Tower of 
Oomares, and was no longer to be seen. 

The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the cot- 
tages below the Alhambra, in the valley of the Darro, and 
a pale streak of light began to appear above the eastern 
mountains. A slight wind arose; there was a sound like 
the rustling of dry leaves through the courts and corridors, 
and door after door shut to with a jarring sound. Sanchica 
returned to the scenes she had so lately beheld thronged 
with the shadowy multitude, but Boabdil and his phantom 
court were gone. 

The moon shone into empty halls and galleries stripped 
of their transient splendor, stained and dilapidated by time 
and hung with cobwebs; the bat flitted about in the un- 
certain light, and the frog croaked from the fish-pond. 

Sanchica now made the best of her way to a remote 
staircase that led up to the humble apartment occupied by 
her family. The door, as usual, was open, for Lope San- 
chez was too poor to need bolt or bar; she crept quietly to 
her pallet, and, putting the myrtle wreath beneath her 
pillow, soon fell asleep. 

In the morning she related all that had befallen her to 
her father. Lope Sanchez, however, treated the whole as 
a mere dream, and laughed at the child for her credulity. 
He went forth to his customary labors in the garden, but 
had not been there long when his little daughter came run- 
ning to him almost breathless. " Father! father!^' cried 
she, " behold the myrtle wreath which the Moorish lady 
bound round my head.^^ 

Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for the stalk of 
the myrtle was of pure gold, and every leaf was a sparkling 
emerald! Being not much accustomed to precious stones, 
he was ignorant of the real value of the wreath, but he saw 
enough to convince him that it was somethmg more sub- 
stantial than the stuff that dreams are generally made of, 
and that at any rate the child had dreamed to some pur- 
pose. His first care was to enjoin the most absolute secrecy 
upon his daughter; in this respect, however, he was secure, 
for she had discretion far beyond her years or sex. He 



208 THE ALHAMBRA. 

then repaired to the vault where stood the statues of th© 
two alabaster nymphs. He remarked that then- heads were 
turned from the portal, and that the regards of each were 
fixed upon the same pomt m the interior of the buildings. 
Lope Sanchez could not but admire this most discreet con- 
trivance for guarding a secret. He drew a line from the 
eyes of the statues to the point of regard, made a private 
mark on the wall, and then retired. 

All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchez was dis- 
tracted with a thousand cares. He could not help hovering 
within distant view of the two statues, and became nervous 
from the dread that the golden secret might be discovered. 
Every footstep that approached the place made him trem- 
ble. He would have given anything could he but turn the 
heads of the statues, forgettmg that they had looked pre- 
cisely in the same direction for some hundreds of years, 
without any person being the wiser. " A plague upon 
them,^' he would say to himself, " they ^11 betray all! Did 
ever mortal hear of such a mode of guarding a secret!" 
Then, on hearing any one advance, he would steal off, as 
though his very Im-king near the place would awaken sus- 
picions. Then he would return cautiously, and peep from 
a distance to see if everything was secure, but the sight of 
the statues would again call forth his indignation. " Ay, 
there they stand," would he say, " always looking, and 
looking, and looking, just where they should not. Con- 
found them! they are just like all their sex; if they have 
not tongues to tattle with, they^ll be sui'e to do it with 
their eyes!" 

At length, to his relief, the long anxious day drew to a 
close. The sound of footsteps was no longer heard in the 
echoing halls of the Alhambra; the last stranger passed 
the threshold, the great portal was barred and bolted, and 
the bat, and the frog, and the hooting owl gradually re- 
sumed their nightly vocations in the deserted palace. 

Lope Sanchez waited, however, mitil the night was far 
advanced, before he ventured with his little daughter to the 
hall of the two nymphs. He found them looking as know- 
ingly and mysteriously as ever, at the secret place of de- 
posit. " By your leave, gentle ladies," thought Loj)e 
Sanchez as he passed between them, " I will relieve you 
from this charge that must have set so heavy m your minds 
for the last two or three centuries." He accordingly went 



THE ALHAMBRA. 20U 

to work at the part of the wall which he had marked, and 
hi a little while laid open a concealed recess, in which stood 
two great jars of porcelain. He attempted to draw them 
forth, but they were immovable until touched by the inno- 
cent hand of his little daughter. With her aid he dislodged 
them from their niche, and found, to his great joy, that 
they were filled with pieces of Moorish gold, mingled with 
jewels and precious stones. Before daylight he managed 
to convey them to his chamber, and left the two guardian 
statues with their eyes still fixed on the vacant wall. 

Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a rich man, 
but riches, as usual, brought a world of cares, to which he 
had hitherto been a stranger. How was he to convey away 
his wealth with safety? How was he even to enter upon 
the enjoyment of it without awakening suspicion? Now, 
too, for the first time in his life, the dread of robbers 
entered into his mind. He looked with terror at the in- 
security of his habitation, and went to work to barricade 
the doors and windows; yet, after all his precautions, he 
could not sleep somidly. His us^ial gayety was at an end; 
he had no longer a joke or a song for his neighbors, and, 
in short, became the most miserable animal in the Alham- 
bra. His old comrades remarked this alteration, pitied 
him heartily, and began to desert him, thinking he must 
be falling into want, and in danger of looking to them for 
assistance; little did they suspect that his only calamity 
was riches. 

The wife of Lope Sanchez shared his anxiety; but then 
she had ghostly comfort. We ought before this to have 
mentioned, that Lope, bemg rather a light, inconsiderate 
little man, his wife was accustomed, in all grave matters, 
to seek the counsel and ministry of her confessor, Fra 
Simon, a sturdy, broad-shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet- 
headed friar of the neighboring convent of San Francisco, 
who was, in fact, the spiritual comforter of half the good 
wives of the neighborhood. He was, moreover, in great 
esteem among divers sisterhoods of nuns, who requited 
him for his ghostly services by frequent presents of those 
little dainties and knickknacks manufactured in convents, 
such as delicate confections, sweet biscuits, and bottles of 
spiced cordials, found to be marvelous restoratives after 
fasts and vigils. 

Fra Simon thiived in the exercise of his functions. His 



210 THE ALHAMBEA. 

oily skin glistened in the sunshine as he toiled up the hill 
of the Alhamhra on a sultry day. Yet, notwithstanding 
his sleek condition, the knotted rope round his waist showed 
the austerity of his self -discipline; the multitude doffed 
their caps to him as a mirror of piety, and even the dogs 
scented the odor of sanctity that exhaled from his gar- 
ments, and howled from their kennels as he passed. 

Such was Fra Simon, the spiritual counselor of the 
comely wife of Lope Sanchez, and as the father confessor 
is the domestic confidant of women in humble life in Spain, 
he was soon made acquainted, in great secrecy, with the 
story of the hidden treasure. 

The friar opened eyes and mouth, and crossed himself a 
dozen times at the news. After a moment^s pause, 
" Daughter of my soul,^^ said he, " know that thy hus- 
band has committed a double sin, a sin against both state 
and church! The treasure he has thus seized uj)on for 
himself, being found in the royal domains, belongs, of 
course, to the crown; but being infidel wealth, rescued, as 
it were, from the very fangs of Satan, should be devoted to 
the church. Still, however, the matter may be accommo- 
dated. Bring hither the myrtle wreath.^' 

When the good father beheld it, his eyes twinkled more 
than ever with admiration of the size and beauty of the 
emerald's. " This,'"* said he, " being the first fruits of this 
discovery, should be dedicated to pious pm-poses. I will 
hang it up as a votive offering before the image of San 
Francisco in our chapel, and will earnestly pray to him, 
this very night, that your husband be j)ermitted to remain 
in quiet possession of your wealth.^' 

The good dame was delighted to make her peace with 
Heaven at so cheap a rate, and the friar, putting the 
wreath under his mantle, departed with saintly steps 
toward his convent. 

When Lope Sanchez came home, his wife told him what 
had passed. He was excessively provoked, for he lacked 
his wife^s devotion, and had for some time groaned in 
secret at the domestic visitations of the friar. " Woman, ^' 
said he, " what hast thou done! Thou has put everything 
at hazard by thy tattling. ^^ 

"What!'' cried the good woman, "would vou forbid 
my disburdening my conscience to my confessor r' 

" Ko^ wife; confess as many of your own sins as you 



THE ALHAMBRA. 211 

please; but as to this money-digging, it is a sin of my own, 
and my conscience is very easy under the weight of it/^ 

There was no use, however, in complainmg; the secret 
was told, and, like water spilled on the sand, was not again 
to be gathered. Their only chance was that the friar 
would be discreet. 

The next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad, there 
was an humble knocking at the door, and Fra Simon 
entered with meek and demure countenance. 

" Daughter, ^^ said he, " I have prayed earnestly to San 
Francisco, and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of 
the night the saint appeared to me in a dream, but with a 
frowning aspect. ' Why,' said he, ' dost thou pray to me 
to dispense with this treasure of the Gentiles, when thou 
seest the poverty of my chapel? Go to the house of Lope 
Sanchez, crave in my name a portion of the Moorish gold 
to furnish two candlesticks for the main altar, and let him 
possess the residue in peace.' " 

When the good woman heard of this vision, she crossed 
herself with awe, and going to the secret place where Lope 
had hid the treasure, she filled a great leathern purse with 
pieces of Moorish gold, and gave it to the friar. The pious 
monk bestowed upon her in return benedictions enough, if 
paid by Heaven, to enrich her race to the latest posterity; 
then slipping his purse into the sleeve of his habit, he fold- 
ed his hands upon his breast, and departed with an air of 
humble thankfulness. 

When Lope Sanchez heard of this second donation to 
the church, he had well-nigh lost his senses. " Unfortu- 
nate man,'' cried he, *' what will become of me? I shall 
be robbed by piecemeal; I shall be ruined and brought to 
beggary!" 

It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife could 
pacify him by reminding him of the countless wealth that 
yet remained; and how considerate it was for San Francisco 
to rest con-tented with so very small a portion. 

Unluckily, Fra Simon had a number of poor relations 
to be provided for, not to mention some half dozen sturdy, 
bullet-headed orphan children and destitute foundlings 
that he had taken mider his care. He repeated his visits, 
therefore, from day to day, with salutations on behalf of 
St. Dominick, St. Andrew, St. James, until poor Lope was 
driven to despair, and found that;, unless he got out of th© 



212 THE ALHAMBRA. 

reach of this holy friar, he should have to make peace- 
offerings to every saint in the calendar. He determined, 
therefore, to pack up his remaining wealth, beat a secret 
retreat in the night, and make off to another part of the 
kingdom. 

Full of his project, he bought a stout mule for the pur- 
pose, and tethered it in a gloomy vault underneath the 
Tower of the Seven Floors — the very place from whence 
the Bellado, or goblin horse without a head, is said to issue 
forth at midnight and to scour the streets of Granada, pur- 
sued by a pack of hell-hounds. Lope Sanchez had little 
faith in the story, but availed himself of the dread occa- 
sioned by it, knowing that no one would be likely to pry 
into the subterranean stable of the phantom steed. He 
sent off his family in the course of the day, with orders to 
wait for him at a distant village of the Vega. As, the night 
advanced, he conveyed his treasure to the vault under the 
tower, and having loaded his mule, he led it forth, and 
cautiously descended the dusky avenue. 

Honest Lope had taken his measures with the utmost 
secrecy, imparting them to no one but the faithful wife of 
his bosom. By some miraculous revelation, however, they 
became known to Fra Simon. The zealous friar beheld 
these infidel treasures on the point of slipping forever out 
of his grasp, and determined to have one more dash at 
them for the benefit of the church and San Francisco. 
Accordingly, when the bells had rmig for Angelus, and all 
the Alhambra was quiet, he stole out of his convent, and, 
descending through the Gate of Justice, concealed himself 
among the thickets of roses and laurels that border the 
great avenue. Here he remained, counting the quarters 
of hours as they were sounded on the bell of the watch- 
tower, and listening to the dreary hootings of owls and the 
distant barking of dogs from the gypsy caverns. 

At length, he heard the tramp of hoofs, and, through 
the gloom of the overshadowing trees, imperfectly beheld a 
steed descending the avenue. The sturdy friar chuckled 
at the idea of the knowing turn he was about to serve 
honest Lope. Tucking up the skirts of his habit, and 
wriggling like a cat watching a mouse, he waited until his 
prey was directly before him, when, darting forth from his 
leafy covert, and putting one hand on the shoulder, and 
the other on the crupper, he made a vault that would not 



THE ALHAMBRA. ^13 

have disgraced the most experienced master of equitation, 
and alighted well forked astride the steed. "Aha!'' said 
the study friar^ ''we shall now see who best understands 
the game/' 

He had scarce uttered the words, when the mule began 
to kick, and rear, and plunge, and then set o£f at full speed 
down the hill. The friar attempted to check him, but in 
vain. He bounded from rock to rock and bush to bush; 
the friar's habit was torn to ribbons, and fluttered in the 
wind; his shaven poll received many a hard knock from 
the branches of the trees, and many a scratch from the 
brambles. To add to his terror and distress, he found a 
pack of seven hounds in full cry at his heels, and per- 
ceived, too late, that he was actually momited upon the 
terrible Bellado! 

Away they went, according to the ancient phrase, " pull 
devil, pull friar," down the great avenue, across the Plaza 
ISTueva, along the Zacatin, around the Vivarambla — never 
did huntsman and hound make a more furious run or 
more infernal uproar. 

In vain did the friar mvoke every saint in the calendar, 
and the Holy Virgin into the bargain; every time he men- 
tioned a name of the kmd, it was like a fresh application 
of the spur, and made the Bellado bound as high as a 
house. Through the remainder of the night was the un- 
lucky Fra Simon carried hither, and thither, and whither 
he would not, until every bone in his body ached, and he 
suffered a loss of leather too grievous to be mentioned. At 
length, the crowing of a cock gave the signal of returning 
day. At the sound, the goblm steed wheeled about, and 
galloped back for his tower. Again he scoured the Viva- 
rambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, and the avenue of 
fountains, the seven dogs yelling and barking, and leaping 
up, and snapping at the heels of the terrified friar. The 
first streak of day had just appeared as they reached the 
tower; here the goblin steed kicked up his heels, sent the 
friar a somersault through the air, plimged into the dark 
vault, followed by the infernal pack, and a profound silence 
succeeded to the late deafening clamor. 

Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon holy friar? 
A peasant going to his labors at early dawn found the un- 
fortunate Fra Simon lying under a fig-tree at the foot of 
the tower, but so bruised and bedeviled that he could 



214 THE ALHAMBRA. 

neither speak nor move. He was conveyed with all care 
and tenderness to his cell^ and the story went that he had 
been waylaid and maltreated by robbers. A day or two 
elapsed before he recovered the use of his limbs. He con- 
soled himself in the meantime with the thoughts that, 
though the mule with the treasure had escaped him, he 
had previously had some rare pickings at the infidel spoils. 
His first care on being able to use his limbs was to search 
beneath his pallet, where he had secreted the myrtle wreath 
and the leathern pouches of gold extracted from the piety 
of Dame Sanchez. What was his dismay at finding the 
wreath, m effect, but a withered branch of myrtle, and the 
leathern pouches filled with sand and gravel ! 

Fra Simon, with all his chagrin, had the discretion to 
hold his tongue, for to betray the secret might draw on 
him the ridicule of the public and the punishment of his 
superior. It was not mitil many years afterward, on his 
death-bed, that he revealed to his confessor his nocturnal 
ride on the Bellado. 

Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a long time after 
his disappearance from the Alhambra. His memory was 
always cherished as that of a merry companion, though it 
was feared, from the care and melancholy showed in his 
conduct shortly before his mysterious departm-e, that pov- 
erty and distress had driven him to some extremity. Some 
years aftei-ward, one of his old companions, an invalid 
soldier, being at Malaga, was knocked down and nearly 
run over by a coach and six. The carriage stopped; an 
old gentleman, magnificently dressed, with a bag-wig and 
sword, stepped out to assist the poor invalid. What was 
the astonishment of the latter to behold in this grand cava- 
lier his old friend Lope Sanchez, who was actually celebrat- 
ing the marriage of his daughter Sanchica with one of the 
first grandees in the land. 

The carriage contained the bridal-party. There was 
Dame Sanchez, now gro^vvn as round as a barrel, and 
dressed out with feathers and jewels, and necklaces of 
pearls, and necklaces of diamonds, and rings on every 
finger, and altogether a finery of apparel that had not been 
seen since the days of Queen Sheba. The little Sanchica 
had now grown to be a woman, and for grace and beauty 
might have been mistaken for a duchess, if not a princess 
outright. The bridegroom sat beside her, rather a with- 



THE ALHAMBEA. 215 

ered, spindle-shanked little man, but this only proved him 
to be of the true blue blood, a legitimate Spanish grandee 
being rarely above three cubits in stature. The match had 
been of the mother's making. 

Riches had not spoiled the heart of honest Lope. He 
kept his old comrade with him for several days, feasted 
him like a king, took him to plays and bull-fights, and at 
length sent him away rejoicing, with a big bag of money 
for himself, and another to be distributed among his 
ancient messmates of the Alhambra. 

Lope always gave out that a rich brother had died in 
America, and left him heir to a copper mine, but the 
shrewd gossips of the Alhambra insist that his wealth was 
all derived from his having discovered the secret guarded 
by the two marble nymphs of the Alhambra. It is re- 
marked that these very discreet statues continue even imto 
the present day with their eyes fixed most significantly on 
the same part of the wall, which leads many to suppose 
there is still some hidden treasure remaining there well 
worthy the attention of the enterprising traveler. Though 
others, and particularly all female visitors, regard them 
with great complacency, as lasting monuments of the fact 
that women can keep a secret. 



MAHAMAD ABEN ALAHMAE, 

THE FOUNDER OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

Hayikg dealt so freely in the marvelous legends of the 
Alhambra, I feel as if bound to give the reader a few facts 
concerning its sober history, or, rather, the history of those 
magnificent princes, its founder and finisher, to whom 
Europe is indebted for so beautiful and romantic an 
Oriental monument. To attain these facts, I descended 
from this region of fancy and fiction, where everything is 
liable to take an imaginative tint, and carried my researches 
among the dusty tomes of the old Jesuit's library in the 
university. This once boasted repository of erudition is 
now a mere shadow of its former self, having been stripped 
of its manuscripts and rarest works by the French, while 
masters of Granada. Still it contains, among many pon- 
derous tomes of polemics of the Jesuit fathers, several curi- 
ous tracts of Spanish literature, and, above all^ a number 



216 THE ALHAMBKA. 

of those antiquated^ clusty^ parchment-bound chronicles, 
for which I have a pecuhar veneration. 

In this old library I have passed many delightful hours 
of quiet, undisturbed, literary foraging, for the keys of the 
doors and book-cases were kindly intrusted to me, and I 
was left alone to rummage at my leisure — a rare indulgence 
in those sanctuaries of learning, which too often tantalize 
the tliirsty student with the sight of sealed fountains of 
knowledge. 

In the course of these visits I gleaned the following par- 
ticulars concerning the historical characters in question. 

The Moors of Granada regarded the Alhambra as a 
miracle of art, and had a tradition that the king who 
founded it dealt in magic, or, at least, was deeply versed in 
alchemy, by means of which he procured the immense 
sums of gold expended in its erection. A brief view of his 
reign will show the real secret of his wealth. 

The name of this monarch, as mscribed on the walls of 
some of the apartments, was Aben Abd^allah (i. e., the 
father of Abdallah), but he is commonly known in Moorish 
history as Mahamad Aben Alahmar (or Mahamad, son of 
Alahmar), or simply Aben Alahmar, for the sake of brevity. 

He w^as born in Arjona, in the year of the Hegira, 59*1, 
of the Christian era, 1195, of the noble family of the Beni 
Nasar, or children of Nasar, and no expense was spared by 
his parents to fit him for the high station to which the 
opulence and dignity of his family entitled him. The 
Saracens of Spain w^ere greatly advanced in civilization. 
Every principal city was a seat of learning and the arts, so 
that it was easy to command the most enlightened instruct- 
ors for a youth of rank and fortune. Aben Alahmar, when 
he arrived at manly years, was appointed Alcayde, or gov- 
ernor of Arjona and Jaen, and gained great popularity by 
his benignity and justice. Some years afterward, on the 
death of Aben Hud, the Moorish power of Spain was 
broken into factions, and many places declared for Ma- 
hamad Aben Alahmar. Being of a sanguine spirit and 
lofty ambition, he seized upon the occasion, made a circuit 
through the country, and was everywhere received with 
acclamation. It was in the year 1238 that he entered Gra- 
nada amid the enthusiastic shouts of the multitude. He 
was proclaimed king with every demonstration of joy, and 
soon became the head of the Moslems in Spain^ being the 



THE ALHAMBRA. 217 

first of the illustrious line of Beni Nasar that had sat upon 
the throne. 

His reign was such as to render him a blessing to his 
subjects. He gave the command of his various cities to 
such as had distinguished themselves by valor and pru- 
dence, and who seemed most acceptable to the people. He 
organized a vigilant police, and established rigid rules for 
the administration of justice. The poor and the distressed 
always found ready admission to his presence, and he 
attended personally to their assistance and redress. He 
erected hospitals for the blind, the aged, and infirm, and 
all those incapable of labor, and visited them frequently, 
not on set days, with pomp and form, so as to give time 
for everything to be put in order and every abuse con- 
cealed, but suddenly and unexpectedly, informing himself 
by actual observation and close inquiry of the treatment of 
the sick and the conduct of those appointed to administer 
to their relief. 

He founded schools and colleges, which he visited in the 
same manner, inspecting personally the instruction of the 
youth. He established butcheries and public ovens, that 
the people might be furnished with wholesome provisions at 
just and regular prices. He introduced abundant streams 
of water into the city, erecting baths and fountains, and 
constructing aqueducts and canals to irrigate and fertilize 
the Vega. By these means, prosperity and abundance pre- 
vailed in this beautiful city, its gates were thronged with 
commerce, and its warehouses filled with the luxuries and 
merchandise of every clime and country. 

While Mahamad Aben Alahmar was ruling his fair do- 
mains thus wisely and prosperously, he was suddenly 
menaced by the horrors of war. The Christians at that 
time, profiting by the dismemberment of the Moslem 
power, were rapidly regaining their ancient territories. 
James the Conqueror had subjected all Yalentia, and 
Ferdinand the Saint was carrying his victorious armies into 
Andalusia. The latter invested the city of Jaen, and swore 
not to raise his camp until he had gained possession of the 
place. Mahamad Aben Alahmar was conscious of the in- 
sufiiciency of his means to carry on a war with the potent 
sovereign of Castile. Taking a sudden resolution, there- 
fore, he repaired privately to the Christian camp, and 
made his unexpected appearance in the presence of King 



218 THE ALHAMBEA. 

Ferdinand. *' In me/' said he, "you behold Mahamad, 
King of Granada. I confide in your good faith, and put 
myself under your protection. Take all I possess, and re- 
ceive me as your vassal.'" So saying, he knelt and kissed 
the king's hand in token of submission. 

King Ferdinand was touched by this instance of confid- 
ing faith, and determined not to be outdone in generosity. 
He raised his late rival from the earth and embraced him 
as a friend, nor would he accept the wealth he offered, but 
received him as a vassal, leaving him sovereign of his 
dominions, on condition of paying a yearly tribute, attend- 
ing the Cortes as one of the nobles of the empire, and serv- 
ing him in war with a certain number of horsemen. 

It was not long after this that Mahamad was called upon 
for his military services to aid King Ferdinand in his fa- 
mous siege of Seville. The Moorish king sallied forth with 
five hundred chosen horsemen of Granada, than whom 
none in the world knew better how to manage the steed or 
wield the lance. It was a melancholy and himiiliating 
service, however, for they had to draw the sword against 
their brethren of the faith. Mahamad gained a melan- 
choly distinction by his prowess in this renowned conquest, 
but more true honor by the humanity which he prevailed 
upon Ferdinand to introduce into the usages of war. 
When in 1248 the famous city of Seville surrendered to the 
Castilian monarch, Mahamad returned, sad and full of 
care, ^to his dominions. He saw the gathering ills that 
menaced the Moslem cause, and uttered an ejaculation 
often used by him in moments of anxiety and trouble: 
"How straitened and wretched would be our life, if our 
hope were not so spacious and extensive."* 

When the melancholy conqueror approached his beloved 
Granada, the people thronged forth to see him with impa- 
tient joy, for they loved him as a benefactor. They had 
erected arches of triumph in honor of his martial exploits, 
and wherever he passed he was hailed with acclamations, 
as El Galib, or the Conqueror. Mahamad shook his head 
when he heard the appellation, " Wa le Galib ile Ala!" 
exclaimed he (there is no conqueror but God !) From that 
time forward, he adopted this exclamation as a motto. Ho 

* " Que angoste y miserabile seria nuestra vida, sino fuera tan 
dilatada y espaciosa nuestra esperanza!" 



THE ALHAMBKA. 219 

inscribed it on an oblique band across liis escutcheon, and 
it continued to be the rnottc of his descendants. 

Mahamad had purchased peace by submission to the 
Christian yoke, but he knew that where the elements were 
so discordant, and the motives for hostility so deep and 
ancient, it could not be secure or permanent. Acting, 
therefore, upon an old maxim, ''Arm thyself in peace, 
and clothe thyself in summer, ^^ he improved the present 
interval of tranquillity by fortifying his dominions and re- 
plenishing his arsenals, and by promoting those useful arts 
which give wealth and real power to an empire. He gave 
premiums and privileges to the best artisans; improved the 
breed of horses and other domestic animals; encouraged 
husbandry, and increased the natural fertility of the soil 
twofold by his protection, making the lonely valleys of his 
kingdom to bloom like gardens. He fostered also the 
growth and fabrication of silk, until the looms of Granada 
surpassed even those of Syria m the fineness and beauty of 
their productions. He, moreover, caused the mines of 
gold and silver, and other metals found in the momitainous 
regions of his dominions, to be diligently worked, and was 
the first king of Granada who struck money of gold and 
silver with his name, taking great care that the coins 
should be skillfully executed. 

It was about this time, toward the middle of the 
thirteenth century, and just after his return from the siege 
of Seville, that he commenced the splendid palace of the 
Alhambra, superintending the building of it in person, 
mingling frequently among the artists and workmen, and 
directing their labors. 

Though thus magnificent in his works, and great in his 
enterprises, he was simple in his person and moderate in 
his enjoyments. His dress was not merely void of splen- 
dor, but so plain as not to distinguish him from his sub- 
jects. His harem 'boasted but few beauties, and these he 
visited but seldom, though they were entertained with great 
magnificence. His wives were daughters of the principal 
nobles, and were treated by him as friends and rational 
companions; what is more, he managed to make them live 
as friends with one another. 

He passed much of his time in his gardens, especially in 
those of the Alhambra, which he had stored with the rarest 



220 THE ALHAMBEA. 

plants, and the most beautiful and aromatic flowers. Here 
he delighted himself in reading histories, or in causing 
them to be read and related to him, and sometimes, in 
intervals of leisure, employed himself in the instruction of 
his three sons, for whom he had provided the most learned 
and virtuous masters. 

As he had frankly and voluntarily offered himself a 
tributary vassal to Ferdinand, so he always remained loyal 
to his word, giving him repeated proofs of fidelity and 
attachment. When that renowned monarch died, in 
Seville, in 1254, Mahamad Aben Alahmar sent embassadors 
to condole with his successor, Alonzo X., and with them a 
gallant train of a hundred Moorish cavaliers of distinguished 
rank, who were to attend, each bearing a lighted taper 
round the royal bier, during the funeral ceremonies. This 
grand testimonial of respect was repeated by the Moslem 
monarch during the remainder of his life, on each anni- 
versary of the death of King Fernando el Santo, when the 
hundred Moorish knights repaired from Granada to Seville, 
and took their stations with lighted tapers in the center of 
the sumptuous cathedral round the cenotaph of the illus- 
trious deceased. 

Mahamad Aben Alahmar retained his faculties and vigor 
to an advanced age. In his seventy-ninth year he took the 
field on horseback, accompanied by the flower of his 
chivalry, to resist an invasion of his territories. As the 
army sallied forth from Granada, one of the principal 
adalides, or guides, who rode in the advance, accidentally 
broke his lance against the arch of the gate. The counsel- 
ors of the king, alarmed by this circumstance, which was 
considered an evil omen, entreated him to return. Their 
supplications were in vain. The king persisted, and at 
noon-tide the omen, say the Moorish chroniclers, was fatally 
fulfilled. Mahamad was suddenly struck with illness, and 
had nearly fallen from his horse. He was placed on a lit- 
ter, and borne back toward Granada, but his illness in- 
creased to such a degree that they were obliged to pitch his 
tent in the Vega. His physicians were filled with conster- 
nation, not knowing what remedy to prescribe. In a few 
hours he died, vomiting blood, and in violent convulsions. 
The Castilian prince, Don Philip, brother of Alonzo X., 
was by his side when he expired. His body was embalmed, 
inclosed in a silver coffin, and buried in the Alhambra, in 



THE ALHAMBRA. 221 

a sepuloher of precious marble, amid the unfeigned lamen- 
tations of his subjects, who bewailed him as a parent. 

Such was the enlightened patriot prince who founded 
the Alhambra, whose name remains emblazoned among its 
most delicate and graceful ornaments, and whose memory 
is calculated to inspire the loftiest associations m those who 
tread these fading scenes of his magnificence and glor}^ 
Though his undertakings were vast and his expenditures 
immense, yet his treasury was always full; and this seem- 
ing contradiction gave rise to the story that he was versed 
in magic art and possessed of the secret for transmutmg 
baser metals into gold. 

Those who have attended to his domestic policy as here 
set forth, will easily understand the natural magic and 
simple alchemy which made his ample treasury to overflow. 



JUSEF ABUL HAGIAS, 

THE FIIflSHER OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

Beneath the governor's apartment in the Alhambra is 
the royal mosque, where the Moorish monarchs performed 
their private devotions. Though consecrated as a Catholic 
chapel, it still bears traces of its Moslem origin; the Sar- 
acenic columns with their gilded capitals, and the latticed 
gallery for the females of the harem, may yet be seen, and 
the escutcheons of the Moorish kings are mingled on the 
walls with those of the Castihan sovereigns. 

In this consecrated place perished the illustrious Jusef 
Abul Hagias, the high-minded prince who completed the 
Alhambra, and who, for his virtues and endowments, de= 
serves almost equal renown with its magnanimous founder. 
It is with pleasure I draw forth from the obscurity in which 
it has too long remained, the name of another of those 
princes of a departed and almost forgotten race, who 
reigned in elegance and splendor in Andalusia, when all 
Europe was in comparative barbarism. 

Jusef Abul Hagias (or, as it is sometimes written, Haxis) 
ascended the throne of Granada in the year 1333, and his 
personal appearance and mental qualities were such as to 
win all hearts, and to awaken anticipations of a beneficent 
and prosperous reign. He was of a noble presence and 
great bodily strength, united to manly beauty. His com- 



222 THE ALHAMBKA. 

plexion was exceeding fair, and, according to the Arabian 
chroniclers, he heightened the gravity and majesty of his 
appearance by suffering his beard to grow to a dignified 
length, and dyeing it black. He had an excellent memory, 
well stored with science and erudition; he was of a lively 
genius, and accounted the best poet of his time, and his 
manners were gentle, affable, and urbane. 

Jusef possessed the courage common to all generous 
spirits; but his genius was more calculated for peace than 
war, and, though obliged to take up arms repeatedly in 
his time, he was generally unfortimate. He carried the 
benignity of his nature into warfare, prohibiting all wanton 
cruelty, and enjoining mercy and protection toward women 
and children, the aged and infirm, and all friars and per- 
sons of holy and recluse life. Among other ill-starred 
enterprises, he undertook a great campaign in conjunction 
with the King of Morocco, against the kings of Castile and 
Portugal, but was defeated in the memorable battle of 
Salado — a disastrous reverse which had nearly proved a 
death-blow to the Moslem power in Spain. 

Jusef obtained a long truce after this defeat, during 
which time he devoted himself to the instruction of his 
people and the improvement of their morals and manners. 
For this purpose he established schools in all the villages, 
with simple and uniform systems of education; he obliged 
every hamlet of more than twelve houses to have a mosque, 
and prohibited, various abuses and indecorums that had 
been introduced into the ceremonies of religion and the 
festivals and public amusements of the people. He at- 
tended vigilantly to the police of the city, establishing noc- 
turnal guards and patrols, and superintending all munici- 
pal concerns. 

His attention was also directed toward finishing the great 
architectural works commenced by his predecessors, and 
erecting others on his own plans. The Alliambra, which 
had been founded by the good Aben Alahmar, was now 
completed. Jusef constructed the beautiful Gate of Jus- 
tice, forming the grand entrance to the fortress, which he 
finished in 1348. He likewise adorned many of the courts 
and halls of the palace, as may be seen by the inscriptions 
on the walls, in which his name repeatedly occurs. He 
built also the noble Alcazar, or citadel of Malaga; now, 
tmfortunately, a mere mass of crimibling ruins^ but which 



THE ALHAMBRA. 223 

probably exMbited in its interior similar elegance and 
magnificence with the Alhambra. 

The genius of a sovereign stamps a character upon his 
time. The nobles of Granada, imitating the elegant and 
graceful taste of Jusef, soon filled the city of Granada with 
magnificent palaces; the halls of which were paved in 
Mosaic, the walls and ceilings wrought in fret-work, and 
delicately gilded and pamted with azure, vermilion, and 
other brilliant colors, or minutely inlaid with cedar and 
other precious woods, specimens of which have survived in 
all their luster the lapse of several centuries. 

Many of the houses had fountains, which threw up jets 
of water to refresh and cool the air. They had lofty towers 
also, of wood or stone, curiously carved and ornamented, 
and covered mth plates of metal that glittered in the sun. 
Such was the refined and delicate taste in architecture that 
prevailed among this elegant people; insomuch, that to use 
the beautiful simile of an Arabian writer, " Granada, in 
the days of Jusef, was as a silver vase filled with emeralds 
and jacinths.^" 

One anecdote will be sufficient to show the magnanimity 
of this generous prince. The long truce which had suc- 
ceeded the battle of Salado was at an end, and every effort 
of Jusef to renew it was in vain. His deadly foe, Alfonzo 
XI., of Castile, took the field with great force, and laid 
siege to Gibraltar. Jusef reluctantly took up arms, and 
sent troops to the relief of the place, when, in the midst of 
his anxiety, he received tidings that his dreaded foe had 
suddenly fallen a victim to the plague. Instead of mani- 
festing exultation on the occasion, Jusef called to mind the 
great qualities of the deceased, and was touched with a 
noble sorrow. " Alas!^^ cried he, " the world has lost one 
of its most excellent princes — a sovereign who knew how to 
honor merit, whether in friend or foe!''^ 

The Spanish chroniclers themselves bear witness to this 
magnanimity. According to their accounts, the Moorish 
cavaliers partook of the sentiment of their king, and put 
on mourning for the death of Alfonzo. Even those of 
Gibraltar, who had been so closely invested, when they 
knew that the hostile monarch lay dead in his camp, de- 
termined among themselves that no hostile movement 
should be made against the Christians. 

The day on which the camp was broken up, and the 



224: THE ALHAMBRA. 

army departed, bearing the corpse of Alfonzo, the Moors 
issued in multitudes from Gibraltar, and stood mute and 
melancholy, watching the mournful pageant. The same 
reverence for the deceased was observed by all the Moorish 
commanders on the frontiers, who suffered the funeral 
train to pass in safety, bearing the corpse of the Christian 
sovereign from Gibraltar to Seville. * 

Jusef did not long survive the enemy he had so gener- 
ously deplored. In the year 1354, as he was one day pray- 
ing in the royal mosque of the Alhambra, a maniac rushed 
suddenly from behind, and plunged a dagger in his side. 
The cries of the king brought his guards and courtiers to 
his assistance. They found him weltering in his blood, 
and in convulsions. He was borne to the royal apartments, 
but expired almost immediately. The murderer was cut 
to pieces, and his limbs burned in public, to gratify the 
fury of the populace. 

The body of the king was interred in a superb sepulcher 
of white marble; a long epitaph in letters of gold upon an 
azure ground recorded his virtues. '^ Here lies a king and 
martjnr of an illu:trious line, gentle, learned, and virtuous; 
renowned for the graces of his person and his manners, 
whose clemency, piety, and benevolence were extolled 
throughout the kingdom of Granada. He was a great 
prince, an illustrious captain, a sharp sword of the Mos- 
lems, a valiant standard-bearer among the most potent 
monarchs,'^ etc. 

The mosque still remains, which once resounded with 
the dying cries of Jusef, but the monument which recorded 
his virtues has long since disappeared. His name, however, 
remains inscribed among the ornaments of the Alhambra, 
and will be perpetuated in connection with this renowned 
pile, which it was his pride and delight to beautify. 

* '* Y los Moros que estaban en la villa y Castillo de Gibraltar 
despues que sopieron que el Rey Don Alonzo era muerto, ordenaron 
entresi que ninguno non f uesse osado de fazer ningun movimiento 
contra los Christianos, nin mover pelear contra ellos, estovieron 
todos quedos y dezian entre ellos que aquel dia muriera un noble 
rey y gran principe del mundo!" 



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Wing-and-Wing. By James Feni- 
more Cooper. 

Woman in White, The. By Wilkie 
Collins. 

Won by Waiting. By Edna LyaU. 

Wooing O't. By Mrs. Alexander. 

World Went Very Well Then, 

The. By Walter Besant. 
Wormwood. By Marie Corelli. 

Wreck of the Grosvenor, The. 

By W. Clark RusseU. 
Zenobia. By William Ware. 



For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent post-paid on receipt of price by 
th« publisher, A. L. BUMT, New York. 



THE ALG ER SERIE S for BOYS 

TJniform ^vsrith. This Volume. 

This series affords wholesome reading for boys and girls, and all th» 
volumes are extremely iateresting.— Cincinnati Commercial-Gazette. 



JOE'S LUCK ; or, A Brave Boy's Adventurer, In California. By 
Horatio Alger, Jr. 

JULIAN MORTIMER ; or, A Brave Boy^s Struggles for Home 
and Fortune. By Harry Castlemon. 

ADRIFT IN THE WILDS ; or, The Adventures of Two Ship- 
wrecked Boys. By Edward S. Ellis. 

FRANK FOWLER, THE CASH BOY. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 

GUY HARRIS, THE RUNAWAY. By Harry Castlemon. 

THE SLATE-PICKER ; A Story of a Boy's Life in the Coal 

Mines. By Harry Prentice. 
TOM TEMPLE'S CAREER. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 

TOM, THE READY ; or, Up from the Lowest. By Randolph Hill. 

THE CASTAWAYS ; or. On the Florida Reefs. By James Otis. 

CAPTAIN KIDD'S GOLD. The True Story of an Adventurous 

Sailor Boy. By James Franklin Fitts. 
TOM THATCHER'S FORTUNE. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 

LOST IN THE CANON. The Story of Sam Willett's Adventures 

on the Great Colorado of the West. By Alfred R. Calhoun, 
A YOUNG HERO ; or, Fighting to Win. By Edward S. Ellis. 

THE ERRAND BOY ; or. How Phil Brent Won Success. By 

Horatio alger, Jr. 
THE ISLAND TREASURE ; or, Harry Darrel's Fortune. By 

Frank H. Converse. 
A RUNAWAY BRIG ; or, An Accidental Cruise. By James Otis. 

A JAUNT THROUGH JAVA. The Story of a Journey to the 
Sacred Mountain by Two American Boys. By E. S. Ellis. 

CAPTURED BY APES ; or, How Philip Garland Became King 
of Apeland. By Harry Prentice. 

TOM THE BOOT-BLACK ; or, The Road to Success. By Horatio 

ROY GILBERT'S SEARCH. A Tale of the Great Lakes. By 

William P. Chipman. 
THE TREASURE-FINDERS. A Boy's Adventures in Nicara- 

uga. By James Otis. 
BUDD BOYD'S TRIUMPH; or. The Boy Firm of Fox Island. 

By William P. Chipman. 
TONY, THE HERO ; or, A Brave Boy's Adventures with a 

Tramp. Bv Horatio Alger, Jr. 
CAPTURED BY ZULUS. A Story of Trapping in Africa. By 

Harry Prentice. 
THE TRAIN BOY. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
DAN THE NEWSBOY. By Horatio Alger. Jr. 
SEARCH FOR THE SILVER CITY. A Story of Adventure 

in Yucatan. By James Otis. 
THE BOY CRUISERS ; or. Paddling in Florida. By St. George 

Rath BORNE. 

Tlie above stories are printed on extra paper, -and bound in 
Sandsome Cloth Binding, in all respects uniform with this 
volume, at $1.00 per copy. 

For sale hy all Booksellers, or will he sent post-paid on rec&ipt of price, bv the 
publisher, Jl. JL, BUJtT, 66 Ji«ad« St., New York. 



THE FIRESIDE SERIES FOR GIRLS. 

Uniform Cloth Binding. 

A carefully selected series of books 
for girls written by authors of acknowl- 
edged reputation. The stories are 
deeply interesting in themselves, and 
have a moral charm that emanates 
from the principal characters; they 
teach without preaching, are of lively 
interest throughout, and will win the 
hearts of all girl readers. 




Illustrated- 
Illus- 



Esther. By Rosa Nouchette Carey. II- 1 

lustrated. Price, $1.00. 
A World of Girls : The Story of a School. 

By L. T. Meade. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
The Heir of Redclyffe. By Charlotte M. Yonge. 

Price, $1.00. 
The Story of a Short Life. By Juliana Horatio Ewing. 

trated. Price, $1.00. 
A Sweet Girl Graduate. By L. T. Meade. Illustrated. Price, 

$1.00. 
Our Bessie. By Rosa Nouchette Carey. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
Six to Sixteen : A Story for Girls. By Juliana Horatio Ewing. 

Hlustrated. Price, $1.00. 
The Dove in the Eagle's Nest. By Charlotte M. Yonge. Il- 
lustrated. Price, $1.00. 
Giannetta: A Girl's Story of Herself. By Rosa Mulholland. 

Illustrated. Price, $1 00. 
Jan of the Windmill : A Story of the Plains. By Juliana Ho- 
ratio Ewing. Illustrated. Price, $100. 
Averil. By Rosa Nouchette Carey. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through a Looking-Glass. Two 

volames in one. By Lewis Carroll. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
Merle's Crusade. By Rosa Nouchette Carey. Illustrated. 

Price, $1.00. 
Girl Neighbors ; or, The Old Fashion and the New. 

Tytler. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
Polly: A New Fashioned Girl. By L. T. Meade. 

Price, $1.00. 
Aunt Diana. By Rosa N. Carey. Illustrated. Price, 
The Water Babies : A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby. By Charles 

Kingsley. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
At the Back of the North Wind. By George Macdonald. 

Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
The Chaplet of Pearls ; or, The White and Black Ribaumont. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
The Days of Bruce : A Story of Scottish History. By Grace 

Aguilar. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 



By Sarah 
Illustrated. 
$1.00. 



For Sale by All Booksellers. 

A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER, NEW YORK. 



M$tM m& ^xMtxml ^mU. 



Why, When and Where. A dictionary of rare aud curious 
Information. A treasury of facts, legends, sayings and their explan- 
ation, gathered from a multitude of sources, presenting in a conven- 
ient form a mass of valuable knowledge on topics of frequent inquiry 
and general interest that has been hitherto inaccessible. Carefully 
compared with the highest authorities. Edited by Robert Thorne^, 
M.A. 500 pages. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

" In this book the casual reader will be rejoiced to meet many a subject ho 
has searched the encyclopedia for in vain. The information is clearly, fully 
and yet concisely given.^ ^—Sprin^eld Eepublican. 

A Cyclopedia of Natural History. Comprising descriptions of 
Animal Life : Mammals, Birds, Reptiles, Batrachians and Fishes. 
Their Structure, Habits and Distribution. For popular use. By 
Charles C. Abbott, M. D. 620 pages. 500 illustrations. Cloth, 
12mo, price $1.00. 

" The author has shown great skill in condensing his abundant material, 
while the illustrations are useful in illustrating the information f m-nished in 
the text, "—yime*, Troy. 

The National Standard Encyclopedia. A Dictionary of Lit- 
erature, the Arts and the Sciences, for popular use ; containing over 
20,000 articles pertaining to questions of Agriculture, Anatomy, Archi- 
tecture, Biography, Botany, Chemistry, Engineering, Geography, 
Geology, History, Horticulture, Literature, Mechanics, Medicine, 
Physiology, Natural History, Mythology and the various Arts and 
Sciences. Prepared under the supervision of a number of Editors, 
and verified by comparison with the best Authorities. Complete in 
one volume of 700 pages, with over 1,000 illustrations. Cloth, 12mo, 
price $1.00. 

Law Without Lawyers. A compendium of Business and Domes- 
tic Law, for popular use. By Henry B. Corey, LL.B., member of 
New York Bar. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

"The vo'nme before us is a very convenient manual for every-day use, con- 
taining a general summary of the law as applied to ordinary business transac- 
tions, social and domestic relations, with forms for all manner of legal docu- 
ments."— Troy Times. 

Dr. Danelson's Counselor, with Recipes. A trusty guide for 
the family. An illustrated book of 720 pages, treating Physiology, 
Hygiene, Marriage, Medical Practice, etc. By J. E. Danelson, M. D. 
Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

" The Counselor is pure and elevating in its morals, and wise and practical 
in the application of its counsels. It can but be a helper in homes following 
its directions."— i?ey. J. V. Ferguson^ Pastor M. E. Church, Mohawk, iV. Y. 

The National Standard History of the United States. A com 

plete and concise account of the growth and development of the 
Nation, from its discovery to the present time. By Everit Brown. 
600 pages. Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

In this most interesting book our country's history is told from the discovery 
of America down to the election of Benjamin Harrison as President of tha 
United States. 

For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent post-paid on receipt qf price, by the ptib- 
tt»her. A, Zi, BVRI, 66 Meade Street, New York, 



m$tm m& 'gmciiaX '§mU. 



A Dictionary of American Politics. Comprising accounts of 
Political Parties, Measures and Men ; Explanations of tlie Constitu- 
tion ; Divisions and Practical Workings of the Government, together 
with Political Phrases, Familiar Names of Persons and Places, Note, 
worthy Sayings, etc. , etc. By Everit Brown and Albert Strauss. 
665 pages. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. Paper, 50 cents. 

Senator John Sherman says : "I have to acknowledge the receipt of a copy 
of your ' Dictionary of American Politics.' I have looked over it, and find it a 
very excellent book of reference, which every American family ought to have." 

Boys' Useful PastimrtJ Pleasant and profitable amusement for 
spare hours in the use of . 3ols. By Prof. Robert Griffith, A. M. 
300 illustrations. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

" The author has devised a happy plan for diverting the surplus energy of 
the boy from frivolous or mischievous channels into activities that interest 
him, while at the same time they train him to mechanical and artistic skill and 
better adapt him for success in life."— .Boston Journal. 

What Every One Should Know. A cyclopedia of Practical 
Information, containing complete directions for making and doing 
over 5,000 things necessary in business, the trades, the shop, the 
home, the farm, and the kitchen, giving in plain language recipes, 
prescriptions, medicines, manufacturing processes, trade secrets, 
chemical preparations, mechanical appliances, aid to injured, busi- 
ness information, law, home decorations, art work, fancy work, 
agriculture, fruit culture, stock-raising, and hundreds of other useful 
hints and helps needed in our daily wants. By S. H. Burt. 516 
pages. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

" A mass of information in a handy form, easy of access whenever occasion 
demands."— /rt^e?-- Ocean, Chicago. 

Readers' Reference Hand-Book. Comprising " A Handy Clas- 
sical AND Mythological Dictionary " of brief and concise explan- 
ations of ancient mythological, historical and geographical allusions 
commonly met witli in literature and art, also ' ' Famous People of 
All Ages," a manual of condensed biographies of the most notable 
men and women who ever lived. By H. C. Faulkner and W. H. 
Van Orden. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

" This book will serve a useful purpose to many readers, and wiU save time 
lost in consulting dictionaries of larger scope."— TAe Churchman. 

Writers' Reference Hand-Book. Comprising a manual of the 
" Art of Correspondence," with correct forms for letters of a 
commercial, social and ceremonial nature, and with copious explana- 
tory matter. Also "A Handy Dictionary of Synonyms," with 
which are combined the words opposite in meaning. Prepared to 
facilitate fluency and exactness in writing. By Jennie Taylor 
Wandle and H. C. Faulkner. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

" Crowded full and even running over with proper and effective words must 
be the writer who will not occasionally find this work of great convenience 
and assistance to him."— The Delineator. 

For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent post-paid on receipt qf price, by the pub- 
, A. i. BTJBT, 66 Jteade Street, New Torh. 



useful and iractlal ^otal^. 



Etiquette, Health and Beauty. Comprising " The Usaoes o^ 
THE Best Society," a manual of social etiquette, and " Talks with 
Homely Girls on Health and Beauty," containing chapters upon 
the general care of the health, and the preservation and cultivation of 
beauty in the complexion, hands, etc. By Frances Stevens and 
Frances M. Smith. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

" It is a handy volume to be lying on the table for reference.**— Zio»'» Esraki,, 
Boston. 

The National Standard Dictionarya A pronouncing lexicon of 
the English Language, containing 40,000 words, and illustrated with 
700 wood -cuts, to which is added an appendix of useful and valuable 
information. 600 pages. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 

" A convenient and useful book. Clear in typography, convenient In size. 
It contains copious definitions, syllabic divisions, the accentuation and pro- 
nunciation of each word, and an appendix of reference matter of nearly IOC 
pages is added, making it the best cheap dictionary we have ever seen."— 
Courier-Journal^ Louisville, 

The Usages of the Best Society. A manual of social etiquette. 
By Frances Stevens. Cloth, 16mo, price 60 cents. 

" Will be found useful by all who wish to obtain instruction on matters relat- 
tog to social usage and society."— Z>e//w>resr« Magazine. 

A Handy Dictionary of Sj^onyms, with which are combined 
the words opposite in meaning. For the use of those who would 
Bpeak or write the English language fluently and correctly. By H, 
C. Faulkner. Cloth, 16mo, price 50 cents. 

" Will be found of great value to those who are not experienced In speech or 
with pen.'^— Brooklyn Eagle. 

Talks With Homely Girls on Health and Beauty. Their Free 
ervation and Cultivation. By Frances M. Smith. Cloth, 16moj 
price 50 cents. 

" She recommends no practices which are not In accord with hygienic i%^<«, 
so that her book is really a valuable little gnide."— Peterson' » Magazine. 

A Handy Classical and Mythological Dictionary. For popu- 
lar use, with 70 illustrations. By H. C. Faulkner. Cloth, i6mo, 

price 50 cents. 

" It is often convenient to have a small book at hand in order to find out the 
meaning of the classical allusions of the day, when It Is troublesome and cum 
bersome to consult a larger work. This tasteful volume fills the desired pur- 
pose. It explains the allusions, pronounces the hard names, and picture? 
many of the mythological heroes."^— Providence Journal, 

Famous People of All Ages. Who they were, when they lived, 
ttnd why they are famous. By W. H. Van Orden. Cloth, l6mo, 
price 50 cents. 

" An excellent hand-book, giving In a compact form biographies of the pe? 
sons in whom the student and writer would naturally take most interest. "- 
^ew York Tribune. 

For sale hij all BGolsellers, or will be sent post-puA on receipt of price, by the pub^ 
lisher, A. X. BUUT, 66 Heade Street, New ITorJc, 



mmm m& f^mmat i««>u 



Friendly Chats With Girls. A series of talks on manners, duiy, 
behavior and social customs. Containing sensible advice and counsel 
on a great variety of important matters which girls should know. 
By Mrs. M. A. Kidder. Illustrated. Cloth, 16mo, price 50 cents. 

" Every girl that reads and understands this little book will be all the wiser 
and prettier for it, and she will team that excellent secret that true beauty 
comes from within, and is not for sale at the dressmaker's or the apothecary's." 
'^Boston Beacon, 

The Art of Letter Writing. A manual of polite correspond 
ence, containing the correct forms for all letters of a commercial 
social, or ceremonial nature, with copious explanatory chapters on 
arrangement, grammatical forms, punctuation, etc., etc. By Jennib 
Taylor Wandle. Cloth, 16mo, price 50 cents. 

" These little works on letter- writing are not to be despised. They often 
stimulate ambition, and it is a much better sign for a person who has had few 
school advantages to be seen consulting an authoritative volxune of this kind, 
than to see him plunging heedlessly into letter-wi'iting with all his ignorance 
clinging around him."— iV. Y. Telegram. 

Ladies' Fancy Work. New Revised Edition, giving designs and 
plain directions for all kinds of Fancy Needle- Work. Edited by 
Jenny June. 700 illustrations. Paper cover, price 50 cents. 

" I have examined carefully the beautifully printed manuals edited by Mrs. 
Croly [Jenny June], whose work here, as elsewhere, is as careful and thorough 
as she has taught us to expect. They will be invaluable to all needle-workers, 
and deserve the success they will most undoubtedly obtam."— ilfrs. Helen 
Campbell. 

Knitting and Crochet. A guide to the use of the Needle and the 
Hook. Edited by Jenny June. 200 illustrations. Paper cover, 
price 50 cents. 

" o . . I cannot think of a more useful present for young housekeepers 
and mothers, who can gain much important information from these books to 
aid in decorating their homes and to trim their clothing tastefully."— ilfr*. 
Hem^ Ward Beecher. 

Needle-Work. A manual of stitches and studies in embroidery 
and drawn work. Edited by Jenny June. 200 illustrations. Papei 
cover, price 50 cents. 

" I do not hesitate to pronounce Mrs. Croly's works on Needle-Work and 
Knitting and Crochet the best manuals on those subjects that I have ever seen. 
They are charming reading, as well as useful guides to housewife and needle- 
woman."— ilfamw, Harland. 

I Letters and Monograms. For marking on Silk, Linen and othei 
fabrics, for individuals and household use. Edited by Jenny June. 
1,000 illustrations. Paper cover, price 50 cents. 

" I am greatly pleased with the Manuals of Art Needle-Work so charmingly 
edited by Mrs. Croly [Jenny June]. Mrs. Croly 's manuals will reveal treasures 
to many a woman who distrusts herself, but soon the worker will take courage 
as her perceptions are cultivated, and with patience and holding fast to the 
truths m nature, ' patterns ' will come of themselves to fit the uses intended. 
Embroidery, however, is a real enjoyment to me, and I am glad to aid all 
efforts to popularize such work."— Jfrs. Gen. Fremont. 

For sale hy all BooTcsellers^ or will he sent post-paid on receipt qf price^ by the pvb- 
lisTuTt A, X. IBUMXt 66 Xtvade Streetf New York, 



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JUL 24 i3;;b 



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